Fred Aiken Writing

Category: Poetry

not a great one

a friend of mine is dying,
i don’t think he’s going to make it,
neither does he,
nor do the doctors,
this isn’t much of a poem,
but i suppose i’m not much in the mood
to write one at the moment

mall work//my mall rat experience

i worked at a mall once,
at the coffee kiosk in the middle
of the mall, right next to sephora,
whose workers would frequent
our little coffee kiosk before their shift,
during the breaks, or whenever it was slow in the mall
and they were just wanting to shoot the shit,

then one day, because the sephora employees
were so friendly with us and liked our coffee,
they decided to gift us bath bombs,
but the bath bombs were so colorful and bright,
i thought they were candy,
and at that time in my life,
i had never been into a sephora,
so i thought to myself, well, maybe it’s a candy shop
in which all the employees always smell like
floral perfumes,

i must say, i do not recommend biting down
on a bath bomb from sephora,
as they do not taste as delicious as they look,
though despite that incident,
i still have never been into a sephora,
not because i’m embarrassed, i promise,
but i cannot say that i would not be tempted
to bite into another one of their colorful, candy-look-alike bath bombs

crowd mentality

the crowd gets up on their feet,
then one person starts to float
above everyone else,
as crowd dances and doesn’t pay attention,
and the person that floats high up into the trees,
then further into the mountains,
can no longer see or distinguish anyone else,
they all look like ants down there,
they tell themselves,
but they want to dance with everyone else,
they want to have fun and enjoy
what little time they have,
so they dance by themselves,
high in the mountains where no one can see,
it’s not quite the same,
they admit to themselves,
but for goodness sake, they forgot how to get down