pumpkin tangerine mango salmon
hunched over soggy in the break room I become vegetable
not to let the aquamarine touch the mint
slinky toothpaste colored clubwear
looks like discarded napkins
not to leave unbuttoned and inside out on the hanger
sweat loosens my sleeves
flitting from line to dressing room to line unhinges my belt
my heel bone bitches at the floor
the floor scolds back
not to see red flowers too prominent or stripes too wide
on Fridays we wear black
absolute funeral black
death to little girls playing dress-up! death to fuchsia! death to kimchi blue! death to halter! death to spaghetti strap! death to heather gray! death to pink!
the refrigerator didn't do anything wrong
I slam it shut anyway
I worked at Forever 21 at a very desperate time in my life. It was the only job I ever walked out on (or ever would...) This poem relives my memories of working there.
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