A Day at the Mall Reminds Me of America

I wonder if Kanye knows that these girls are experimenting.

A Day at the Mall Reminds Me of America

 
Recently, my 14 year old sister was approached at the mall to see if she'd be interested in working at Hollister, or Abercrombie and Fitch, or American Eagle. I can't remember. 
 
She's that beautiful. And with the mall's lights all around her—I can only imagine. 
 
Yet on Facebook, one of her friends calls her a loser. More write, “I hate you.”  
 
I wonder if Kanye knows that these girls are experimenting. As with rum. As with skin, all the ways to touch it. 
 
My day at the mall begins with a Wild Cherry ICEE and an Auntie Anne's Original Pretzel. A craving.  
 
I pass women who you can tell are pregnant, and I know we all might be carrying daughters. 
 
The mall is so quiet. The outside of the Hollister looks like a tropical hut, like the teenage girls should be sweating inside. 
 
No one’s holding doors for me yet, but they will as I take the shape of my child. 
 
And if my child has a vicious tongue, it will take shape lapping at my breast.
 
Sarah Blake

 


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Poem ©2012 Sarah Blake, all rights reserved. Used by permission. Film ©2015 Motionpoems, Inc., all rights reserved.

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