To His Amazonian Mistress, Who’s Into Pee Bottles, Sadomasochism and So Forth

Had we but next-day delivery and so little time,

This unbridled capitalism, lady of myth and alphabetical phone book alphaism, was no crime.

We would still be sat down the same way, and think which way

To walk, and pass our one-click purchase’s day.

Thou by the weary warehouse shelves’ side

Shouldst Prime deals find; I by the tide

Of Bezos would complain. I would

Love you ten years before the flood of pee in water bottles and your pants,

And I should, if I please, refuse to slow dance

Til the conversion of thy laundry into clean clothes.

My materialistic love should grow

Vaster than e-commerce empires and more slow;

A hundred years should go to the fake Prime Day holiday or the extended Prime Days.

Thine eyes and on thy deals gaze;

Two hundred dollar sale price to adore the Google Nest,

And thirty thousand discounts on the rest;

An order of at least every sum and every part,

And the last dollar should go to your cart.

For, ladies and gents, you deserve this most degraded state,

You can’t stoop lower to find a cheaper rate.

But at my back I always hear

Labor rights’ wingèd chariot hurrying near;

And yonder all before us lie

Workers’ exploitation of vast eternity.

Thy impulse purchases shall no more be found;

Nor, in thy speakers of Alexa, shall sound

My Echo’s song; then branded vans shall try

That same-day itch to gratify,

And your quaint impatience turn to dust,

And into ashes all my product lust;

Consumerism is a fine and private place,

But none without egging and trickery and ads do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue

Sits on thy skin like morning package dew,

And while thy willing soullessness transpires

At every pore with tablet sales so fire,

Now let us shop while we may,

And now, like Amazon warriors so implicitly gay,

Rather at once our bank account devour

Than languish with so little consumer power.

Let us roll all our acquisitiveness and all,

Our buying up into one ball,

And click our pleasures with total ease

To the doorsteps as we please.

Thus, we can make a zillionaire,

Though we can never make him care,

Or even the slightest bit aware,

As we choke on the most rancid air,

Even the slightest bit aware.

Share this Post: