Mall Poetry

BALLOONS (this one is definitely in progress...but it happened today!)

Four balloons touched down
in the middle of the downtown street:
one pink, one yellow, two white.

One man walked by them, then went back,
face expressionless (no expression seeming right),
picked them up by their ribbons, and tossed them to the sidewalk
so the bus wouldn't hit them, of course.

Three young people stood nearby: two boys, one girl
and the girl, needing something to touch the boys with,
used the balloons to bop them on the head.
It didn't do the trick, so she tossed the balloons up
and watched them like the child she was and is.

Up they flew, to the tops of the buildings,
and for a moment my heart soared with them.
Something beautiful shimmered inside me,
the beginning of a wondering about where beauty comes from.

I turned away to watch the police prep a man for detox.
When I looked back up, my balloons were gone.


IRRITATED/INSECURE
You tell the story again and again, and wait for me to laugh,
forcing me into a moment
when I really thought it was funny
when we thought we were really clever
and perfectly happy.

Do you make the joke again
because you liked me so much then?
Or because you like me so much less now?