Gold Star Member
I find life at Costco,
my red white & blue membership card buying my way
into a world of overturned books,
limited produce, and
light bulbs as far as the world goes.
My Costco card makes sense of a world
a building, a feeling. Costco, the mythical land of bargains.
My card serves as a key,
winning me entry into the castle
of expansive parking lots and oversized shopping carts.
This parody of America.
I can’t buy one cantaloupe, but I can buy three.
I can’t buy a hot dog, but I can buy a foot-long.
Vitamin D comes in bottles large enough
to cure jaundice and baby shampoo containers
double as bath tubs.
Costco is my piece of America.
A country so full of foolish pride that the money
that should be spent on healthcare and textbooks
is instead spent on oversized American flags
and flightsuits for the president to play make believe.
That’s the America that I hate.
That’s the Costco that I love.
At my next visit, I’ll purchase a mirror
and force myself to look in it every day.
copyright Giles Li, 2004