The Call of the Mall.

The Walled Mall. The Retail Fortress. The massive mall with trees in the halls. A monument to Consumerism. I guess you could call it a theme park for your wallet. There are unique boutiques and stores galore but wait there's more. There's fake food for your brood, if you're in the mood. It's air-conditioned, beat the heat. Bring your feet in off the street. The Marshmallow People can be seen lumbering along, to the Muzak songs, in the gleaming mezzanine. Various vases of towering flowers grace the spacious spaces. Sweet, clean teens in jeans make the scene, preening and posing in clothing for possible purchase. Moms & Pops dragging snotty, tag-along tots to the Toys of Temptation Emporium. The can't-stop shoppers charge everything in sight! Assail, a Sale! Urbane cowboys strut their duds and sop up suds while listening to the Special Olympics of Music at the line-dance bar down at the mall. Beer-bellies and belt buckles belly up to the bar to bend bought-bronze elbows. Mousy misters with their spouses browsing the trousers by the discount racks of hats. Slim women skim the shirts and skirts looking for a new look. What the heck, write a check, anything to get those hands from 'round your neck. Renta-Cops smirk and lurk about on the lookout for a lark. Banners beckon bargain buyers, "Merchandise, just your size. Shop here now, win a prize!" The shuffling, bored hordes haunt the sterile stores searching for a purchase. Walkers stalking miles of aisles for a steal of a deal.
The only way to arrive at this hive is to drive. Park your car but don't walk too far. Once inside, your plastic passport to paradise will fill your elastic parcel pouches with preposterous purchases which you can then transport back to your bulging abode and place in your drastic refuse container. Thank You, come again.

M.Scherer