secondhand

groceries.
those and cloths we throw our capital at:
a bow tie and a apple,
and the means to go between our dreams,
the office, and the hawkers in our social contract.
wrapped in paper or plastic;
rapt, captive, trapped in coin and currency and vendors.
crooning platitudes to the church of package senders,
that our lips might whisper same day shipping
at the shrine of chip readers and choosing tips.
let supplication fall upon our ears at alter call
for greater goods and self services to all
that we might have saved, and find redemption codes.
and praise be to the last discount in stock,
deep savings locked, our cart runneth over by the shipping truck loads.

how could this be so cheap?
people greed steeped in paper and plastic;
smothered in brands and choices
instead of helping hands, and voices.
in drastic need of gratification - fast.
grant us contentment in arms clasped
let that butterfly flutter and land at long last
that we might grasp love for fellow man
and find value in the person we sold secondhand.
let us trade compliments, smiles, and glances,
foregoing sunday papers and clearance aisles -
break off our retail romances.
cast off the chains of possessions,
and profess a life not packed in cardboard, hoarded away.
though we might not have it overnight.