they make me uncomfortable

A-a-are you gonna take me home tonight?

Methodically exploring aisles in Canadian Tire, I’m smiling at the Classic Rock station playing over the sound system, warmed by my kissing connection with the bass line, looking for a shallow storage box, and beginning to doubt if they have what I came for. Everything looks cheap under the halogens. Even me, I suppose. The drab stacks of unpacked christmas lights in the last aisle are intimidating and smell like packing plastic.

Ah-h down beside that red firelight.

The shop girl I find, no make-up, earrings like the claws of an animal, says she likes my pin-stripe pants, but she doesn’t know if she can help me. The next person, an improbably tall young man whose staff vest is too bright, says he likes my hoodie, but they don’t have what I need. As I leave, the cashier comments on my shoes. I say thank you and hang my head against the rain and the fashion conscious staff. They were not what I’d hoped for.

Are you gonna let it all hang out?

Fat bottomed girls
You make the rockin world go round.

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