You Are Here

By Susan Gillan 

Lost in the shopping mall
I stand at the color-coded map and discover
Bellevue Square is not square at all.
Liars. It’s a layer-cake rectangle.
You Are Here, it says but how do They know
And will They know when I am no longer Here but There?
Will They know if I slink into Vicky’s Secret
To try on every pair of hot pink panties?
Bikinis with soft white lace
Hipsters flashing neon hearts
Thongs with boa trim that snake into your crack.
Ah, the Godiva store
Free samples of naked chocolate
One per customer please
But will They know if I take two
From the tray proffered by the black-haired woman
With painted red lips wearing white-white?
Across the way, genuine leather
Where minimum-wage clerks in too-tight skirts are Coached
To wordlessly insult me and my knockoff bag.
Do They know the baggage I carry?
We are all knockoffs here,
Looking to purchase the panties and purses
That will make us uniquely like somebody else.
Somebody famous,
Somebody rich,
Somebody important,
Somebody.
Something to make us somebody,
To make us whole at half price.
Anoint my head with oil from The Body Shop
And follow me to the Cheesecake Factory
Where we will seek divine intervention
Against becoming fat old women
And split that piece of White Chocolate Caramel Macadamia Nut.

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