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Cerebral Contents: Update for 05.13.08: Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis 05.05.08: Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi 04.29.08: The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox Death by Onions by Michael Frissore 04.21.08: Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser Identity Theft by George Anderson A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde 04.14.08: Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem California by Caroline Imreibe Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson 04.07.08: The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin 03.24.08: Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer 03.17.08: The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney 03.10.08: Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson |
Food Court by Mike Blake There are no mall visits for him without flashbacks of what could have been the same place in the same city, but wasn't (did it matter?). One food court looked like another. Christmas shoppers looked the same everywhere as they handled potential gifts with thoughtful looks. Lovers in no particular hurry, busy people on cell phones, kids on the rides. Employees looking bored behind display stands (tired of looking at shoppers too, tired of Santa hats and squealing kids, and sale announcements coming over the loudspeakers, thinking of the extra money they're making for the season). Yes, he has seen this picture often enough elsewhere, the American consumer out in full force, jaded, but still with eyes peeled for the deals, still vulnerable to the old thrill (sale, special, reduced, slashed!) of the bargain. It's all there for them no matter what direction they turn; everything to complete their holiday season is offered under the lights, the glitter, the bells. Ho ho ho, they even have a fat man in a red suit who looks like he hopes none of his friends recognize him as he bounces one little body after another on his knee. He has no difficulty remembering what season it is. The sensory deluge comes from all directions as he sits, dazed, over his coffee. He always feels very much alone in these places, and very still inside, despite the non-stop activity around him. He could be frozen here, like a statue, a permanent food court piece: The Coffee Drinker. The eternal watcher and contemplator, witnessing the end of yet another year closed in tradition. He thinks Santa would take him up on an offer of a drink at closing time. ______________________________________ |
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