We walk there to escape the heat
or the pall of our
coffined lives.
We are a rag-tag lot,
from the lithe, pony-tailed woman
who waves as she whizzes past me,
to seniors with walkers and trekking poles,
stepping cautiously toward
whatever future awaits,
big families sprawled across the aisles,
briefly trying to hold it all together
against the forces spinning them apart,
couples strolling hand in hand
dreaming new lives
in reflected windows.
We regulars go with the flow, religiously
following the outlines of each corner,
as if our lives depended on it,
some moving slower each year,
then picking up the pace upon recalling
how fast we used to walk,
up and down the one set of stairs,
sometimes three or four times,
recording steps to what end,
or saving our strength on the escalator,
gazing up at blue sky
beyond the skylights.
There’s only one elevator,
though I’ve never seen it go
any other way but down.
With electric eye, the Tyrannosaurus sees all
and roars as we go by, reminding us that
we too will be eaten by time.
We pretend not to notice
the fountain’s gone dry
or the vacant spaces,
and believe the empty promises
of new stores coming
just for you.
And we imagine it will
all still be here
tomorrow.
First published in Sky Island Journal Issue 27 https://www.skyislandjournal.com/issues#/issue-27-winter-2024/
I love this. “The pall of our coffined lives” caught my attention, as did the reflected windows, and that one-way Escher-esque elevator.
Thanks, Lori! Nice to hear from you. Take care.
apropos … I think you covered everyone
especially like the monster reminding us we
will all be eaten by time! I like your easy,
strolling style here.
Thanks, Marilyn!
Good topic for a poem, I think, and an effective treatment of it. Matter-of-fact and sad. Reading it as a member of the mall generation….
Hello Gene,
I also teach Creative Writing at OLLI-UA on Wednesdays this semester: WRITING THE GOOD TIMES; MEMOIR & POETRY. I have probably seen you there and would love to hear you read sometime. (I may have to take your class if you teach next semester or in the Fall). I like most of your poetry. Thank you for calling our attention to it via TPS. I will be reading with them in February at their usual time slot–I think. Keep up the good writing.
-Lollie Butler
Seems like Death of the Mall–a communal space which is
disappearing. I like the rhythm of the poem and the
nuance of the participants. Another fine work.