Mall of Life
by Odin Roark

Beware of blinding light,
bigger,
louder,
in your face light,
inciting fractals of fear.

So many MEs
rush to be enticed by
by a mall’s giant facilities.

Larger portions,
shimmering seductions
melding senses into blurs
as dream-dreamers grab sustenance
where synchronized musical fountains
suggest the food court dining an art.

But…

Like the “Hopper Nighthawk” diner,
such a menu does little to feed
insatiable appetites of loneliness,
verging on the self-loathing side effect.
Ravenous wanderers remain famished
reduced to stuporous gaxe.

Accompanying such tinsel installations,
ceiling speakers amidst persuasive colored clouds
deliver psycho-form-fitting-consumption-mus ic
permeating what little consciousness might roam below
imbuing glutinous egos into chameleon masquerades fo happiness.

Anxious to be a win, win,
a rookie crew of adults in adolescent mode,
engulfed in perfumed cosmetic counter ambiance
stare at their mirrored images
applying the latest frosted lip gloss identification
as males engulf the spray of “get the girl” men’s cologne.

Welcome to this week’s mall flavors,
rookie Hopper-destinies of tomorrow,
challenging yet another layer of luminary isolation…
easing into tomorrow’s “fear matrix”

Everyone has a "Life’s mall," conception.

Perhaps a closer look should be taken.

Seemingly, that’s doubtful for many.