At the mall
I assume attentiveness:
I unsnap the lid from my
coffee cup and it clatters
as plastic on the table.
Voices co-mingle as
patrons and Food Court
employees. Screams of
children emanate from
the play area—but they
are joyous, exuberant.
Teenagers giggle
a table away—I think
of my youth. Evanescent
steam rises from my coffee;
I slide the cup and it shushes
like adamant whispers.
It is evening; some
clean up and close up
actions have begun.
There is a clang
of a spatula on grill.
I open my black notebook
and note the tiny page
flip.
I search for thought
and meaning and
inspiration to enhance
the click-clack of pen.
I gulp the last of coffee,
then snap back the lid
on an empty cup.
Dust pans clatter
against a wine-red floor
as corn brooms swish.
People move towards
the exit, the sounds of
packages in plastic bags,
along with the success and
disappointment of shopping.
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