wow. loved this. a poem I’ll remember. incredibly immersive. the lines “it’s the sort that has no music and only one employee over the age of twenty” stood out and had such good rhythm with the poem.
Those are my favourite kinds of shops. As poor quality as they are, I take them over corporate chained perfection. But aside from all of that I appreciate you taking me there.
Small town (or even suburbia) stories of things happening that appear to be out of place have always seemed much darker to me than raw horror or violence. People disappear from seedy parts of town too, of course, but to me it is far more unsettling when they vanish from a nondescript place doing boring things.
“Aisle four” is me transposing the geography (it was an apartment complex). The arrest took place in 1998, and I only wish it was for stealing. I am strangely torn over whether I prefer no one knows or everyone knows.
Thank you for reading and commenting. I know my stuff is grim, but that’s what has long come out of me (probably self-therapy). I try to be funny sometimes too, though :D
I’m thankful there are readers like you who appreciate the pieces and just get it 💜
wow. loved this. a poem I’ll remember. incredibly immersive. the lines “it’s the sort that has no music and only one employee over the age of twenty” stood out and had such good rhythm with the poem.
Thank you so much 🙏
I feel as if I were there as I was reading - you paint quite the picture!
Thank you. I’m so happy you enjoyed it.
‘its selection forces a man to think creatively if not angrily about his meals
it’s the sort that carries a few items never seen elsewhere, yet is missing obvious mainstays’ 👌
Those are my favourite kinds of shops. As poor quality as they are, I take them over corporate chained perfection. But aside from all of that I appreciate you taking me there.
You are welcome. Hope to do it again soon.
Reading this really made me feel like I was there in that moment. The ending hit so hard!
I know it's a little creepy, but I'm happy to hear I took you there anyway.
Hope to do it again soon!
I like that I can visualize being in this place really well.
Aww… thanks. I have a good teacher 💜
This is a really great piece Giles.
Where have you been all my life.
Love to connect with more poets like you
Totally loved it.
As a poetry lover, I just subbed and glad I found you.
I'd like if you could check out my piece and kindly connect (Sub) back if it sticks.
I promise you'd love it.
https://lawrenceomoregiejr.substack.com/p/to-my-substack-family-561?r=3g3d4k&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Do have a great read and a lovely new weekend ahead
You’re very kind and talented—a wonderful command of the words and flow!
Thank you so much Giles. I'm glad it resonated with you
Vivid and grim. Love it
Thanks, Harry ☠️
What did you do or steal on aisle 4 to get arrested?
This line is my fav kind of dark visual: “the kind where young women get accosted by a friendly face only to vanish for good”
Small town (or even suburbia) stories of things happening that appear to be out of place have always seemed much darker to me than raw horror or violence. People disappear from seedy parts of town too, of course, but to me it is far more unsettling when they vanish from a nondescript place doing boring things.
“Aisle four” is me transposing the geography (it was an apartment complex). The arrest took place in 1998, and I only wish it was for stealing. I am strangely torn over whether I prefer no one knows or everyone knows.
Thank you for reading and commenting. I know my stuff is grim, but that’s what has long come out of me (probably self-therapy). I try to be funny sometimes too, though :D
I’m thankful there are readers like you who appreciate the pieces and just get it 💜