The Excavators of Wal-Mart

The timber giggles to be ravaged like sixteen year-old camel-toe sluts

The sound wafts into the aging rural road, maturing like the back pages of Bob Dylan

The small town was becoming younger than that now with a modern accoutrement

Wal-Mart is finally moving in

Local commerce was dead the day the City Council let the monster

Slide past the safeguard of what makes a town, a town, and 

A people an economic organism to sustain respiration

The roadway sideline is brushing back like pubic hair awaiting the parking lot

The footprint of big boy – big box: auto center, super center, televisions

Watch the pixels sparkle for Sam’s Club cereal, Wrangler jeans round up

Cattle into the corral, greeted with a yellow methamphetamine smile

The dismembered corpse-zombies: Win Dixie, Boeinings Supermarket

The gas stations, the dress shop, the parlor lines of local crops

Spoiling for the harvest of the lowest common denominator of organic death

Magic-wand capitalist progress of pennies raining in enlarged-prostate savings

The copper coins bring the people out in droves

With mouths open like Eucharist-starved Catholics

Say Ahh!  The circles fall and enlarge into their wallets until swelling

To man-hole cover lids smashing their craniums into grinning smithereens

To realize the evolution of Wal-Mart’s eventual diffusion throughout our humanity

To one store, one option, one standard of adoption, one unending list of self-induced dependency

To rely on the lowest price at the highest cost, misunderstanding the health of economics lost

To our super-organism of what is profitable for the individual transaction is a debilitating

Cancer to the whole infecting a mesh of a man’s will to acknowledge a business externalizing

The true expenses born by the populace by how that soybean-based preservative food product

Can sell so cheap with the infrastructure inventory system bitch-slapping vendors

For rights to participate sending shock-waves down the line of selling ourselves shorter and shorter for the big man to pull our trees back and paste a slap of concrete, tower-lights

Humming condensers and rushed conditioned air

The centrifuge is spinning and the DNA of family is segregating out

Into misted lists of one size fits all denim jeans of two legs for trillions upon trillions

Piled into the subcutaneous fat rolls smothered into Inferno packed-pits

Pressed like a yoga mat smashed in the trunk unable to breathe crimpled in plastic sheathing

The Wal-Mart is erecting under the toil of the excavators

An economy is simply the exchange of goods from one party to another

Reciprocating the work of one man for the commensurate sweat-equity of another

Yet when the behemoth-blog coagulates the dollars harden like stalactites

On the ceiling of a people blind as roaches on the bottom of a cave

The air is stagnant, humid and still thickening to a carbon casing of redundancy

Of a McDonalds’ on every corner and a Wal-Mart on every mountain

And for security’s sake a McDonalds’ in every fourth Wal-Mart

So that an interstate billboard can inform us that in fact there is a different McDonalds’

Located at the next sixteen consecutive exits, so that by the time your stomach matures

Into aching hunger again the scripture of eventuality can be re-spread

So that we can see exactly that which we choose to do to ourselves

                                     

We are in a global recession and seeing the stock market at an all-time high

Wondering why, wondering, wondering how and how and why

And that ache to be raped sits in the halcyon yellow smile and golden arches

Beckoning us like transient prostitutes seeking Jesus for forgiveness

Salvation in a less-depleted wallet for a paycheck that was never adequately fed

For a modest living to begin with and whose daily bread became balanced

Whose toil was thrust upon the scales of time away from whose family

As all things are possible for the one who believes in the great trickle down

Of guano from the bats perched like vampires on the cave-ceiling

Wandering out to their whimsy so that for the surface crawlers

Day and night has lost all meaning into an endless shadow

Cast down by the height of what we have disenfranchised by our own elections

Into the bank vaults of a Walton-family cartel, and I rebel yell to shop local

I see the fang-marks on passing wrists marked like crucifixion-fan boys

That this parking lot is the new Mega Church and I am begging for ration

Knowing lynch-pin employers are offering health insurance the day  

Blood flows north on the river the other way

Because that is what it would take minimum wage to make ends meet

Because we will sell our brothers and sisters short for those pennies

Falling from the sky to only look down and see the dollars growing

If we would only bother to plant the seed to unravel the mystery

Of how we have been fooled to believe that a bunch of fucking broccoli

Must cost more than a bag of Doritos;

That processed corn transmogrified into a cool ranch

Sparkling blue preserved crackling prison shanks

Or E-coli CAFO burger is less expensive than an apple

Some book taught us was dangerous to eat

So who is subsidizing who? 

“Who needs who?” said the ants to the grasshoppers.

The Wal-Mart is coming and the town is humming.

The excavators are outside the neighborhood and

The cemetery is full of flowers.