mall

everyone is going to the new sugar.
first just a shoe house & then a television garden.
the stores grow on one another's backs.
we get lost & food court ourselves all night.
drink slushies & hide in the potted ferns.
the sky becomes a sky light. our clothes 
new & new & newer. tiles like the scales
of a great monster. we know somehow
that all our friends are here & yet
we cannot find them. there are maps
but all of them are different. one just reads,
"we are asleep." i follow the footprints
on the ground to the as-seen-on-tv store.
there we can buy a non-stick pan. hold it 
as a weapon or an offering. there are more ghosts
than we can handle. there are more windows
than we can look into. the smell of butter.
a holy tea sample. i start to think "if i ever 
get out i'm going to go to the woods. 
i'm going to evaporate & they will write
some kind of a paranormal show about
my disappearance." a santa is begging us
to get on his lap & take a picture.
he says, "your mother will love it."
finger guns that fire. a salesman is
not accepting credit cards. he asks
for all debts paid in bone. a femur.
a nose. he says an ear will do.
if i find you in this labyrinth i want
to split a soft pretzel. i want to hold hands 
& climb the escalators as high as they
can go. there is an unfinished floor.
a worker says, "don't wait for heaven." 
vacant storefronts. i want to get out
& swallow a handful of dirt. 
find you & weep. confess, "i spent it all.
i do not even remember on what."