O, Costco! God of Consumption
and Zenith of our American Empire of Greed;
The Expiration dates printed upon your Organic Milk cartons
Are testament to thousands of years of human design and efficiency.
How we marvel at your Unbeatable prices of fish and meat,
at Every fruit that grows under the Sun
Neatly packed and labeled;
Through us, your Disciples,
Ye have defeated cruel and cunning Nature
and whipped it to groveling submission.
The Immortal deities of our time
Walking the Earth in 6,000 dollar suits,
Their legacies recorded on the papyrus scrolls of tax records
and Forbes magazine archives,
Commanding their worshipers from Long Island palaces
or Mount Olympus penthouse temples uptown.
Here the Sun sets on the Age of Nations,
And Dawn begins
on the First Days of Creation
For the Eon of Corporations,
The new Superpowers of the Globe;
in Mankind’s short time, we’ve seen
Clans then Kings then Presidents,
Now the chief executive officers reign,
And we Bow down as low as we can sink
Before billboards of air-brushed tits.
O, Costco! Soon shall come a day
When Saint Peter welcomes me in
through your pearly automatically sliding Gates
With His name-tag on his shoulder,
He will Sing with the voices of Angels and Archangels,
Do you have your card?