Scott SimpsonSongs, Poems, Stories.

Scott Simpson · Poetry

The Mall At Christmas

Earlier Poems

Selected Poems 1989 to 2009 · source pages 69, 70, 71

All poetry

The original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.

Source page 69

The Mall At Christmas

Coming toward me is

one wide column of shoppers

dressed in motley.

They are coming to the concrete

Big Top:

three floors of merchants

and their wares with names like Dillards,

Younkers, Sears...

(notice how all store names sound possessive?)

and the people walk in line, faces

fierce and children on leashes.

I am here on this bench by the trash can and

I'm thinking about last

Christmas,

each of us was smiling--- such a

picture.

Carols were playing,

Bing was on the loud speakers,

Santa and his elves were set

up in the

middle, near

Frederick's of Hollywood---

we got pictures of the girls

on his lap,

I got a watch

that quit around

Easter,

you got a red furry teddy

from Freddie's...

(what else would my Mrs. Santa wear?)

Then, it happened---

the moon whirled into place, covering

the sun.

We looked up through the broad

sky-dome over the skating

rink.

Was there sposed to be

a E-clips today?

Source page 70

uncle Benny asked.

And all the people looked up...

the music stopped, Bing was

silenced,

Santa's head turned

and he pulled his

beard down

around his neck,

mouth wide open,

the clerks at

Frederick's came out,

Rudolph bras left

blinking, and unshelved...

We all stood there in

the dim holiday

shadow and knew

how small we

really

were,

and we craned our

tired necks into the

darkness, listening for the

angels...

and we peered past

the towering candy-cane fountain

looking for that one single star...

I began to scan the sky,

nervously searching for some

sign, some hint..., of a sleigh...

some reindeer. or something...

but the moon slid

uneventfully to the

side and the sun reappeared

and

we all looked

pale as our eyes readjusted

and

Benny remarked

simply,

Source page 71

Huh, I guess so.

Now my bench has become

uncomfortable---

the trash can is full

and I have decided

to join the column of shoppers

again,

each of us marching to find

some quiet, clean-smelling place

to break ranks.

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