deryk
02-28-2013, 07:38 PM
ĦINVEST
IN
AMERICA!
Inside,
the Warehouse humms and whirrrs
as my father and I
pass through metal detectors
into its artificial sunlight.
But the labyrinthine shelves are unlit and drab,
except for the occasional hologram of Chinese handbag.
The model with the bag stops pouting
just long enough to wink at us.
A tiny van nearly speeds over our feet,
delivering a fresh batch of bodies,
adorned in colorful vests,
from their thatched sleeping stalls in the back.
I tap my father's shoulder.
And veer off for a bite at the checkout,
but the only entry on the menu reads,
"nachos".
-they look little better
than those littered on the linoleum.
The clerk whiffs my discretion,
"You too good for nachos?! What the hell's
a'matter with you?!"
I find my father worshiping
in the clearance section.
SPECIAL! on KIDNEYS!
The jaundiced young faces,
wide-eyed with antibiotic injections,
hunch behind ropes in a sea
of styrofoam pellets.
Moved by this display of humility,
my father confers to my ear
a story of Great Pride!
"Your great-uncle severed his thumb
hammering rails into the bleached Missouri dust.
He just kept on hammering that day,
'til his blood shone bright on those chalky tracks.
Never asked a penny for his loss.
My God! What a soul!"
Father's supplicant arrives with his order
a stack of pipes labeled in,
"WHAT? Metric!
These don't fit my needs,
but By God are they cheap."
"Is the manager available?"
"I am the manager."
"Where is the owner?"
"Somewhere else, far away."
IN
AMERICA!
Inside,
the Warehouse humms and whirrrs
as my father and I
pass through metal detectors
into its artificial sunlight.
But the labyrinthine shelves are unlit and drab,
except for the occasional hologram of Chinese handbag.
The model with the bag stops pouting
just long enough to wink at us.
A tiny van nearly speeds over our feet,
delivering a fresh batch of bodies,
adorned in colorful vests,
from their thatched sleeping stalls in the back.
I tap my father's shoulder.
And veer off for a bite at the checkout,
but the only entry on the menu reads,
"nachos".
-they look little better
than those littered on the linoleum.
The clerk whiffs my discretion,
"You too good for nachos?! What the hell's
a'matter with you?!"
I find my father worshiping
in the clearance section.
SPECIAL! on KIDNEYS!
The jaundiced young faces,
wide-eyed with antibiotic injections,
hunch behind ropes in a sea
of styrofoam pellets.
Moved by this display of humility,
my father confers to my ear
a story of Great Pride!
"Your great-uncle severed his thumb
hammering rails into the bleached Missouri dust.
He just kept on hammering that day,
'til his blood shone bright on those chalky tracks.
Never asked a penny for his loss.
My God! What a soul!"
Father's supplicant arrives with his order
a stack of pipes labeled in,
"WHAT? Metric!
These don't fit my needs,
but By God are they cheap."
"Is the manager available?"
"I am the manager."
"Where is the owner?"
"Somewhere else, far away."