Her eyes shone,
bright with anticipation,
fuelled by
the wondrous thought
of six perfect hours
at the mall.
Proud and bouncing steps
punctuated her chatter:
makeup colours,
heels and straps,
trademark sensitive,
and, "Did you see his hair?
It's just, like, soooo academy."
Or, "I'm so like, totally
not taking his Text.”
The thrill of belonging,
with her own kind;
the thought of being
devastatingly witty;
the certainty of being
so understated, cool;
the fact of “in”, so
absolutely now:
foundation feelings
for a fragile psyche.
She just totally detested
the filth of the side street
leading to the mall:
she and her friends
stepped carefully
around the sidewalk urchins,
and tiptoed gracefully,
on fashionably shod feet,
past the scattered detritus
of a world she would not see.
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