Eaton Mall

A Prose Poem

I walked through the halls of Eaton mall, eyes open wide. I see the food court full of nachos, tacos and burgers. Poutine is a delicacy; the butter-yellow cheese drizzled on top of succulent fries. Blue raspberry slushies tease our lips. Passing by Victoria Secret — your cherub face damp and salmon. Stalking past the lingerie, feeling all the delicate lace, cherry red. Whiffs of spiced berry and vanilla pod tickle our senses. A cloud of aroma clothes me. At the end of the night, we pass by the food court as it nears closing time. Nacho cheese greases the floor — trailblazers of dairy. All that is left is the echo of nacho chips crunching beneath our feet.

Authors Note: This prose poem is based on a prompt by Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她). When I think of Nachos, I think of America and Canada. Nachos aren’t as popular in the UK. This prompt brought me back to Eaton Mall in Toronto when I visited family around nine years ago.