North Point Mall: The 90s Cathedral

Lyrics

The minivan door slides shut.
Mom says be at the south entrance by ten.
Ten o'clock is another lifetime.
We push through the big glass doors and the air changes.
Seventy-two degrees. Forever.
Friday night. October. 1998.
The whole world smells like Sbarro and Cinnabon.
A little bit of perfume from Parisian.
We don't have a plan. The plan is to walk.
The plan is to see who is here.
To let them see us.
Up the escalator, past the fountain where the pennies drown.
Every face is a possibility.
Every glance is a secret message.
We are the kings and queens of this linoleum kingdom.
This is the temple. This is the church.
This is North Point Mall on a Friday night.
We tithe our allowance at the food court altar.
We receive the sacrament of a shared slice.
This is our whole world, lit by skylights that never see the sun.
Our 1998 cathedral.
At the top of the stairs, the sacred choice.
Sbarro or Orange Julius?
The workers dance behind the shared counter.
A ballet of cheese pizza and frothy drinks.
We find a table that's only a little sticky.
And we watch the pilgrimage.
The slow circle from Sears at one end, to Lord & Taylor at the other.
Back and forth.
The river of us, flowing under the fake ficus trees.
This is the temple. This is the church.
This is North Point Mall on a Friday night.
We tithe our allowance at the food court altar.
We receive the sacrament of a shared slice.
This is our whole world, lit by skylights that never see the sun.
Our 1998 cathedral.
Did we know it was temporary?
Did we feel the future waiting outside, in the parking lot?
The empty storefronts to come?
No.
We just knew the fluorescent lights made our skin look pale.
We knew the payphone by the restrooms cost a quarter.
We knew that for three hours, this was the only place on earth that mattered.
Homart Development Company built us a monument.
And we lived in it.
Yeah, mom. South entrance.
The glass doors push open again.
The night air is real. It's cold.
The stars are out.
We walk away, and the light from the great ship follows us for a moment.
Then it's gone.
Just gone.