Poetz celebrates BUY NOTHING DAY

photo: Rochelle Ratner
click for larger image

PRICE CLUB

by Ann Cefola

They all lead here: Expressways, interstates and parkways

to the warehouse, members only, where yellow, orange and red shopping carts

wheel possible purchase. A young girl’s eyes roll up in sleep as she dreams of magic markers

and glossy picture books. What voice commands, Come on down? My wallet, Go ahead.

I look up to barbecues and vacuum cleaners on raised altars,

huge cereal boxes like Warhol designs, paper plates stacked like southern columns.

My feet fast forward on concrete: Do I want, do I want? I am

Solomon between expense and uselessness; in my basket, a new purse, pitas, cat food,

eager to be taken elsewhere, like me. I want

transubstantiation, to be taken up in corn flakes, Liz Claiborne and Fancy Feast.

If I choose wisely, a bell will ring, the cashier will wish me a nice day,

and I will preside over a new estate, closing cupboards

safely over bright-labeled cans, arranging lipstick and comb in my new purse,

that yields them back as I need them, my small fiefdom,

the serfs I can count on, their tactile faces loyal and willing.