Smoking Outside The MallA Poem by Mohl083
i miss my friend tim and working at the dream machine. i wish was my life was as much fun as i remember. if anyone knows a little worn down theater still showing clerks 2 let me know. thanks.
I quit a couple years ago
But when Tim offers
I can’t say no to that beautiful
Son of a b***h.
With the twitch of a thumb
And a quick blue spark
We talk about old times
Security guards still give us s**t,
But we look cool to little kids
That’s the main concern.
It’s about purple shirts
We never wash
Because they only gave us one
And we work every f*****g day.
That first line of powder
Off the rusted key
To the family station wagon.
The dirty southn’ of the Mickey phone
While crucifying little plastic men
With great big smiles
On their oversized yellow heads.
Nickel and diming the company to death
One Kit Kat bar and pack of Skittles
At a time.
It’s about being 16
And knowing you don’t have
To take s**t from anyone.
My mouth’s regained the taste
And I can’t enjoy it like before.
We crush our butts on the sidewalk;
Now it’s time to go back to our lives.
But for the few minutes we killed ourselves
That one girl with the big rack
Was still working there
Along with the hope of walking to the backroom
And seeing the piercings in her n*****s.
© 2008 Mohl083
Added on February 10, 2008