Growing up, I’d get so angry at the mall.
I’d seethe as my friends and I sauntered
through the halls, and they would ask me why.
“Don’t you see?” I’d say.
“This Hallmark store should be somebody’s home.
The combination KFC and Taco Bell could very well
become a public kitchen. Hell,
the whole food court could transform
into an indoor forest rife
with solar-powered produce fresh for the picking!”
“Can you not hear this time bomb ticking?
This shopping town’s not long for this world.
Eventually the white flag will be unfurled
when all the economic power of the people
bleeds bone dry.
The anchor stores will flee first, and then
the mom and pops.
The movie theater might be the last to say goodbye,
but then, it stops, and then this hulking mass
of brick and glass begins to turn thick black
with mold and grey with dust,
a blight along the highway.”
“That Dick’s Sporting Goods could have been a greenhouse
or a gym. Instead, it’s just a grim reminder
of capitalist greed, holding space for failed investments
instead of public need.”
My friends stopped inviting me to the mall.
They said I got them weird looks in the halls
and that I made one of them cry.
Well, okay, but was I wrong?
Was I misguided when I said
the sicko owners wouldn’t let the city
exercise their eminent domain
to build community?
Was I lying when I said
those lanky assholes would rather off themselves
than let affordable sustainable housing
strike down their hopes and dreams
of making a mint off their abandonment?
They’d rather let the old mall rot
to reap the tax benefits
and tell thousands of homeless folks
to bite the curb.
Was I wrong when I said this mall –
with halls full of people laughing and living –
could one day shutter and die,
a memory and a grave to days gone by
when no one’s got the money to buy?
While I’ve been ranting,
the weeds have grown
over what could be.
My God! They’ve even reclaimed
the Walgreens.
(December 4, 2024)