Ode to Wal-Mart

 

In heaven somewhere an angel will quit

Each time that cashier has to scan all my shit;

She’s got lymph-edema, about 88

Pillhead to support – he’s home sleeping late.

 

O Wal-Mart, O Wal-Mart how can I describe

This feeling I feel when I go deep inside?

The eyes of your greeters are pools of despair

But you’re just so much cheaper I’ve learned not to care.

 

You’ve wiped out the scenery, killed mom n pop

homeless vets live in tents behind your back lot.

And me, yes it’s true, like some crack-smokin bitch:

Cash-strapped, stretch pants, with three hungry kids;

 

Be it fish sticks or towels or Equate spermicide

Or the Band-Aids my blood will need to squeak by

Or July 4th from China, or African plums –

my cart has no conscience;  she turns tricks and runs.

 

Cuz I need you like coughing needs a carton of reds

Like a cheating spouse needs prescription meds

I need you like white bread needs Sara Lee ham

Like electric carts beeping in a traffic jam.

 

I see the wifebeaters, the meth in their bones

The oil stains of Jesus, diabetes, bad loans

In a faraway country, your factory kids starve

But I’m saving on box tops and White Stag neckscarves;

 

Wal-Mart O Wal-Mart, your bakery sucks balls

And the slaves working there have eaten their souls

Fucknuts in pickups, ten puppies for free

An orc in aisle five beats her child with sweet tea.

 

But me, I’m your bae, your shorty, your boo

I shop every day with cloth bags and no clue

someday I hope I won’t need you so much

But for now I’m so broke, who gives half a fuck.

.

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