The Outlet Mall Guru

Teach me to fold the perfect pant and I'll show you how to sell a credit card to a mother of four who makes minimum wage. The mexicans pay in crisp $100 bills, the asians in crumpled coupons, and I pay with my soul.

Thanks, Banana.

Welcome Home

i heard the hills whisper "welcome home"

their voices hung in the air with dragonflies

they swirled around our heads of unkempt hair

sharing with us the songs of man and wind

and we tapped our feet on the same ground

the sun introduced itself to my pale skin

freckles claimed territory on a plot above my heart

for $5 god would leave his handprint on yours

on the porch you sang about the simple things

and i began to notice them

my dress soaked up the river and all the people in it

tightly woven threads trapped the current

so i wrung out the comfort and drove east

i left you standing at the bottom of civilizations slope

locals hung above the water like a barrel of monkeys

away from the boxed merlot and shirtless boys

patriotism shields my eyes from neon signs

but my hair still feels like the river

and my coffee tastes like your cigarettes

so i hug this lamppost hoping it will guide you

it will act as a lighthouse

and i will wait beneath its glow until you arrive

by jennifer robichaux, whose dress is now dry