Portrait of Woodfield Mall

Album cover art for "Portrait of Woodfield Mall" by Blythe Baird

Blythe Baird - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)

Portrait of Woodfield Mall

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Lyrics

Little girl in a pink parka walks with head down and arms crossed. Mother on the phone, giving detailed directions, looking for a needle in the haystack of the crowd. Her eyes connect with a faceless pin-point. An elderly man hobbles over to them, slow as a July heat wave. He leans in for a hug, puckering, pointing at his cheek for a kiss. The girl hesitates, brewing a fit in her forehead. She does not want to touch or be touched. Her mother tsk tsk tsks at her. Grandfather with a hangnail heart. He wants to know why his tiny ray of pigtailed pink parka'd sunshine does not want to love him right now. Pouts. The little girl looks at her mortified mother, then back at her expectant grandpa. Guilt trip. Give in. It is today she learns there is a right and wrong way to show love. It is today she learns there is a formula; you must only give love in the same manner you got it. Humans are obsessed with seeing themselves in others. Today, she learns her body is everyone's business but her own. Her body is a democracy. Everybody gets a vote.

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Credits

Writers
  • Blythe Baird