Shopping at Walmart
Welcome to Walmart,
How may I help you?
You can start by reading my shirt.
On the front it says: Leave while you can.
On the back: Follow my ass.
Outside the day-sky is black.
There is a static energy crackling from
Every plant and rooftop.
Everything is charged.
There is an acidic tang to the air,
A volatile fried plastic smell.
I am homeless.
I will do anything for food.
Wash your car, clean your garage.
I am a middle-aged starving, fat American.
I see myself crucified on a solar panel.
I do not trust my governor,
My senator, or my president.
And least of all myself.
I tread lightly.
I’ve been trying to grow wings.
Where can I find reading glasses and socks?
I wander the aisles of Walmart
Trying to focus on my inner life.
Every-day-low-prices suckle my brain.
I have a real barcode on my butt.
When I get my glasses and my socks
I will stand in the parking lot.
I will squint at the sun
Which will be smiling
And pointing its bright middle finger
At my car
Which is on fire.
That is the future.
There are no cars in the future,
No bees, no Walmarts.
It isn’t anything like this.
That I promise.
But people will have wings.