SHUTTING DOWN

"Like a closing door, I'm slowly shutting down." ~ Dead By April (Last Goodbye)

I’m not sure when it started. I know some people say Covid is to blame. So many people stuck at home for weeks, needing things, and unable to go out to buy them. I think it started long before Covid. I’m talking about the vanishing of retail stores - tangible, brick-and-mortar, in a mall, buildings. Big department stores that anchor all the little stores inside major malls across the country are closing. Many are already gone and more are dropping off the map at a steady pace, perhaps leaving behind an on-line presence, perhaps just gone. Poof.

Am I devastated by this? Not even a little. Amazon and my laptop are all I need. I might feel differently if I was younger and full of energy, eager to browse through the eclectic mall shops, intoxicated by the aroma of Cinnabon, and soft pretzels, but I’m not, and today’s poem is a bit about that.

SHUTTING DOWN

Things are shutting down.
The big-box stores like Macy’s,
Target, and Toys R Us
are shuttering locations or
simply dying,
the latest being
Bed, Bath & Beyond -
better use those gift cards
and 20% off-one-item coupons,
especially now that everything
is marked down already.

What a deal, maybe even better
than finding what you
want on Amazon.
That’s the problem, you know,
or part of it, shopping on your feet
is passé in these on-line shopping
days not like decades past
when shopping was an adventure
an event that was exciting
walking from shop-to-shop
being lured in by vibrant window displays
brightly lit, gorgeous mannequins
draped in elegance,
looking perfect, like you wished
you looked, and eying so many choices,
just magical clothes that made you
want to touch them, try them on
not jeans and tees
not synthetic fabric shirts
that smell funny and make
you sweat, not crap, but
chiffon and velvet and lace
flowing skirts and blouses and slacks
that felt good on our skin and
made you feel good inside.

Shopping was an outing and fun with friends
except maybe for trying to find
a parking space in the mammoth
mall lot where you will lose
your car if you don’t remember
the letter or number of the
aisle where you parked.

Things are shutting down,
like my enthusiasm for
going anywhere because I
don’t feel good and I am old
and everything in every window
is marketed to twenty-somethings.
Even cosmetic anti-aging creams
are shown on barely-out-of-their-teens
models who have no wrinkles
to erase and nothing to tighten
while my upper arms wiggle
inside their crepe-paper wrappings
and it is hard to walk around
when your every joint hurts
your back and knees screaming
and you can’t even remember what was
so important that you had to go
somewhere to get it because
all you can think about is the
pain you’re in and going home
to your sofa and laptop and the
ease of browsing thousands of
items without having to take a
step or talk to an actual human.
Is this a coincidence that everything
is shutting down the same time I am?

Or is it an inevitability that the world
grows smaller simultaneously
with my desire to be in it?