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?