The mall

My favourite spot – the coffee shop in the mall,
where I sit contemplating, watching the parade – the ritual if life;
an aroma of thoughts vapourising from my cappuccino;
my mind adrift, suspended in dissipating tobacco smoke.

Transfixed to a tile on the wall, a revelation smacks me in the face
and crystallises before my eyes.

The Mall – a cathedral – the new sanctuary for modern man,
paying homage to hedonistic indulgences and idol distractions.
People wearing their public faces, scars removed and locked away at home,
emotions in control, walking to the music with an air conditioned attitude;
escaping from reality – a noisy fume left in the car park.

Caffeine and nicotine blend in a long thoughtful sip.

I am alone but not lonely; caressed by the positive ambiance of heterogeneous energy.
Hostility does not exist, unlike the outside – a world gone mad.
Verbal warfare on the road, violence and abuse.
People living in little boxes – fortresses defending their territory.
Neighbours rarely seen, imprisoned in self imposed exile.

No wonder people escape to the mall
– A peaceful sanctuary to heal their wounds
– A communal refuge for sinner and saints
– A model of co-existence shielded in a thermostatic cocoon.

Wishing it would last, we fight with the reality that we are slaves to commitment.

Outside the atmosphere like sandpaper eroding our public face.
Home again to unlock the scars of our private existence;
wishing it wasn’t so.