I See It In Us :: published in Contraposition

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Listen :: H2O :: I See It In Us

I See It In Us

There!
      There!           
                Dave yells.
Hughes’s Cavalier   jolts   :   stops   :
      third space from the entrance.
                   Rock star parking!

The glass door obscured
    by smudged handprints
          closes behind us. Fluorescent
lights : Christmas decorations : shouting voices
       that never form words
engulf us
                cut off
                       the winter night.

The food court packed :
  teenagers eat slices of greasy pizza
              children throw Happy Meal toys
                     mothers stare
                          with bags of merchandise
             to exchange resting between their legs  
                                    eyes focus :  shift to stares  :  as we walk by.

                                                                                                                                       band T-shirts   :  
                                                                                                 hoodies   :   skateboards   :   studded
                                                                                                 belts   :   mohwaks   :   liberty spikes
                                                                                              meet up outside the Gallery of Sound.
                               Old women scurry
                               JC Penney to the Hallmark store,
                                           tired men recline on benches,
                                                                                      their gaze
                                                                    always on our group.
                                                                                                  Hot Tony from Hot Topic is on break
                                                                                                                  Art and Sean mooch money
                                                                                                  underage punks bum rides to Metro
                                                                                                             Dave skates through the crew.

                                                         We gawk back,
                   at their wrinkles and grey hair,
their high-water pants and orthopedic shoes.

                                           One old man has an inky
                                                          blob sticking out
                                           of his shirt sleeve.
                                                                      I stare into his eyes
                                                               he stares back
                                               What does he see in us?
                                       His high school days :
                              a pack of cigarettes
        rolled up in a white T-shirt sleeve
    as he ditched last period
                             to smoke under the bleachers?
  His wife slams her shopping bags
          against his legs   :   looks to what
                                                     he stares at.                                
                                
Does she see
        the fuck-authority boys
                 her mother never let her date?
          Does she see
              the girl she always
                   was too afraid to be?

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