The Fieldstone Review

The Best Place for Solitude is an Abandoned Mall

dragons of neon,
exhibitionist noise:
visions that went and tickled her
when the sky got too wide and she
crawled into a shell long outgrown
by its well-intentioned

bottom-feeders.
the escalator exhaled
with the weight of her. the wine was
good and did not ask for her money.
how tight (thought she) how quaint
the world is between a

few weeping walls,
between the macy’s, and
the gamestop, and the sephora, signs
askew and asleep, limbs left to sigh
in their decomposition. how can you
even stand up in this town

(said a boyfriend)
it’s too goddamn small
but as she fell asleep against the lip
of a fountain she thought of all the
shops laid out in the same place day
by day and, longing for a map,

unknotted with wonder