Suspicion
A teenager—

Closely watched by store security
As to avoid any kind of larceny
Through his eyes, this kid is surely a thief.
He surveys her every move
Waiting for the act
So that he can catch her and set her straight.
Straight, unlike her tousled bright-red hair
He shakes his head in disapproval
Does she expect people not to stare?
Impossible

With her graffiti-colored,
Over-sized jeans; too-wide
black clunky boots; too high
topping it off, with nothing at all;
tiny tight shirt, much too small.
Thick silver chains,
her jewelry no doubt,
Make it easy to keep track of her whereabouts
Thanks to the annoying sound they chime

They look ridiculous, as though enslaving her,
Forcing her to go out in public as she does
And yet, she seems confident,
Proud of her image
Security guard wonders when she’ll grow up
He paces back and forth—impatiently
As if waiting for her to make the change
to “maturity”
Before even exiting the store

An adult—
Walks by with grace and class
Lengthy blond, businesswoman in designer clothing
Avoiding eye contact,
Dodging shoppers,
Heading directly towards the back of the aisle

The security guard suddenly remembers his objective
And searches for a young girl who seems to have
cleverly slipped away
He listens for the sounds of the chains
But everything is instantly drowned out
By the noise of the alarm system
JUSTICE.
With a smirk of satisfaction, he turns to face
the scene, to catch a glimpse
of the culprit

And as she lowers her blond head
in shame,
The red-headed teenager pays for her
blue nail polish.

Renée Gauvreau