It was crazy, it was a party. Actually, it was a wake. People writing remembrances on the wall, and confiding them to strangers. A man singing opera on the spiral staircase, another perched on a wall in the food court, pecking out poems on an old-fashioned typewriter. The few stores still open were having deep sales, trying to get rid of their inventory. And I have no idea where the line for carmel corn ended. The rink was filled with skaters, some in costume and some with soap bubble guns. The mall walkers were dancing through. And everyone else walked aimlessly around, drinking in their very last visit to this mall.
