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We climb up, up
Away from the dim, dim Metro.
The stairs move beneath my feet
The sky is grey and heavy with clouds
The air bites with a chill
Should have brought a coat.
I’m a Minnesotan
I’m tougher than this.
But I should have brought a coat.
On solid concrete again, looking
In a wide arc.
Green grass and trees
Interspersed with gravel and blacktop,
Surrounded on all sides by huge
Buildings, trying to look impressive
on this chilled
DC day.
People.
They’re all over today.
At the popcorn stands
The hotdog stands
Flowing in and out of the museums.
I look around again
There aren’t any true shops here
I say.
Why do they call it The Mall?
©2009 ~Zousha
:iconzousha:

Author's Comments

This poem was written for my Creative Writing Poetry class. I think it still needs some work, but it's not as bad as I thought it was when I first wrote it.

The poem is a narrative of my trip to Washington DC last year, when I came up from the Metro with my family and saw the National Mall for the very first time.

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January 23
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