u r here
MALL
one./ mannequin bends into shape, crane pose origami cracks the paint-skin chip on her knee flakes on tiled floor in designer branded dress a boy with red cheeks stands in front of her, wants to hold her hand. the wiz is playing on repeat, the sales clerk on the third floor macy’s supposed to be at the checkout counter/is crying in the dressing room into reject dress #4 it is casual anyway, she will wear pants anyway, there is no dress code for a funeral except black
two./ there is stale lettuce in the lettuce box in the subway on the second floor food court. it is soggy and browning, like meat you are supposed to take out of the oven. the server sneaks a thread of lettuce into his mouth when no one is looking or waiting to tell him how many olives they want on their spicy italian. he plays with the wet ribbon inside his mouth. swishes it like secret gum/under his tongue, the roof of his mouth, the hollow behind his wisdom teeth/hide and go seek.
three./ gum in the water fountain flavors the water. spit into metallic plastic oasis, tastes like tongues and parched mouth and hints of slippery intimacy//like giving cpr to someone who’s been drowning.
four/. dressing room mirror smudges the corner of the dress she stands in, twisting, pale blue fabric curls at her knees. there are strains of MRSA dancing down the waist, she pinches the fabric close and sucks in.
five./ a boy in a ragged red hoodie stands up from the sea foam table at the food court to go get a spoon for his soup. when he gets back with it, the sleeve of his hoodie slides down, dips into the chicken and rice. he sucks on the flavored bit and spits it back into the rest of the soup. stirs. enjoys.
six./ i. rearranging harry styles’ face pillows so that no matter where in the store you are, one of them will be making eye contact w you. ii. getting harassed by mallrats at closing time. making eye contact w harry styles, thru the glass store front. knowing it will all be okay. iii. passing by the food court on the way to the exit and the smoothie shop guy asks if you want the leftovers. iv. saying: LET’S DO IT, SMOOTHIE MAN. and sipping a concoction of remnant smoothies/juices/malts all collected in the bin they used to keep fresh bananas in. v. getting more than ur daily servings of fruit
zine crew does zines. this is zine nine. we are having fun. the one before this was #8 and then #7 and then #six and then number5 and then no.4 and then ## and then NUM 2 and then #1.