Categories
healing poetry

Overlooking the Georgetown Park Mall

Overlooking the Georgetown Park Mall while she was drinking coffee at Dean’s

With her Wild Boar ball cap on and a Georgetown sweatshirt

Reading an English lit book like A Farewell to Arms

Her mere existence is signaling me to say hello             

Concreting my feet down the avenues of M St.,             

Labeling myself, languished in my distasteful feelings

Devouring a Clyde’s burger or a J. Paul’s Oyster, or some Old Glory BBQ                                                                           

Toiling away in relative anonymity                                         

Self-realizing that Wisconsin Ave. from the salamander to the sequoia is truly our landing spot

I am finished with telling stories to customers                             

I am done shooting the breeze with shoppers                             

I am checked out of my job at the basement shop, Fit to a Tee

On the lower level, the smell of chicken fried rice lingers from the Japanese steak house                                                               

A red sign for Mrs. Fields’ chocolate chip cookies lights up     

The mall is nearly empty, while Sbarro pizza waits

And the Abercrombie and Fitch models wear cozy sweaters on the poster in front of me                                                       

With the Dean’s coffee and coming out from the mall into the starry night                                                                                     

I walk outside waiting to recognize the signal from the universe to be open

To merely say hello and start a simple conversation.               

We intersect like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in our hands.

Or maybe it’s tea and sun butter.

With yoga mats, we descend on hot yoga in Dupont Circle     

To become open, free, and loved                                           

Then realizing our poses are simpler and easier than we think

Like ancient times, we strongly commit to the verses of life, the asanas                                                                                         

And breathing guides us to the local tavern where we get a drink from Martin                                                           

Believing that he serves the best post-yoga cocktails in the cold district.

Ending the night, we stumble upon an M St. psychic reader.

Using her psychic energy to read our palms                               

We laugh and chew the fat, arms together, striding down the back to M St.

Our breaths now visible in the cold weather.                           

We hook a right on Prospect, passing the Booeymonger

Evading the police who have harassed us on the city sidewalk nights before (and who we’ll defund years later)                         

We are drunk off the emotions and high of these feelings of pure bliss.

Swerving to avoid that feeling we cannot avoid or miss         

The darkness of the cool moon sky makes the goodbye feel permanent                                                                                   

As if we may not see each other for a long time

Yet we know in our hearts and lungs and mind that it is only a matter of time                                                                             

For us to neither fast forward nor rewind a mixtape             

We will find our way to be tangled up in a blanket on the sand

With our guarded hearts on the opposite side of the ocean

Before we can make a side wheel motion                                 

We find a washed up bottle that looks like potion.

We take a sip of the mineral water, and what comes next resembles a dream.                                                                     

We play through the 8th hole on the green, seeming to find momentum from an engine like steam                                     

We will not miss, the chance for long term happiness       

Saying good night to the previous loneliness                             

It’s as if we are drinking Dean’s coffee, and this is deep and momentous                                                               

Chronologically experiencing a rich taste in timelessness           

As I am overlooking the mall, finding serenity and bliss.

Big thanks to my editors: , Jude Klinger, and Cameron Zargar.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *