Valentine’s Day: A Department Store Adventure
by Blair Hill
A stuffed animal the size of your torso,
with Miss Scarlet hearts on its paws:
fleeting infatuation in its nimbus stuffing.
You can purchase loneliness for $14.98.
What is love? You haven’t a Clue.
Wandering through a Walmart labyrinth;
you don’t know what you’re searching for.
Never-ending spools of green bean fabric,
TVs the size of microwaves,
the distinct smell of overcooked pizza.
Your apartment used to smell that way:
burnt pizza and something I could never identify.
Can you smell loneliness?
I can. It smells like you.
Edited by August Wright
by Blair Hill
A stuffed animal the size of your torso,
with Miss Scarlet hearts on its paws:
fleeting infatuation in its nimbus stuffing.
You can purchase loneliness for $14.98.
What is love? You haven’t a Clue.
Wandering through a Walmart labyrinth;
you don’t know what you’re searching for.
Never-ending spools of green bean fabric,
TVs the size of microwaves,
the distinct smell of overcooked pizza.
Your apartment used to smell that way:
burnt pizza and something I could never identify.
Can you smell loneliness?
I can. It smells like you.
Edited by August Wright
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