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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Gift Shop Girl

Going to the gift shop
It's where I buy my things
My pens pencils and paper
Hummels Beanies and diamond rings

The gift shop girl
She smells like lotion
Not the good kind they sell
But like dead things by the ocean

In short
Not good
But bad
Sort of underarm stained

In the back of the gift shop
Is my favorite bathroom
It's where I like to pee
And light off farts to dispel the gloom

The tiles are uncracked and clean
Everything shined to an unholy gleam
The first time I went in I was stopped in my tracks
Until I remembered that I had to take a crap

Gift shop girl makes a face at me as I walk out
She knows what I did in there
Some dirty bodily function
And no amount of shiny bric-a-brac I purchase from her
Can wipe away her memory of the truth

That people only talk to her when they need to buy gifts
And not real gifts at all
But things to cover up something
Pain, forgetfulness, guilt or absence
And gift shop girl is accomplice to everything