We ride the escalators in pairs
upwards past the plastic palms,
the static rapids. Our flawless skin
shines blue in the half-light, the smell
of palma violets hangs in the air.
We dare not speak, nor touch,
for fear of waking the blinking eye
while above us, through the criss-cross roof
of steel and glass, the planets glow.
We do not know their names,
or if we do, forgot them long ago.
The hum of neon guides us
to our gods – Gucci, Prada,
Michael Kors. Consumption courses
through our veins driving us higher
to our great design.
Jane Salmons is a teacher living in the Black Country. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing and has previously been published in Snakeskin, I am not a Silent Poet and Creative Ink. She also spends her precious free time creating handmade photomontage collages.