​Lex Loci


It’s a polylemma, she says,
aware that not one person
in the Costco warehouse 
knows what she means.
And you consumers are the linchpin!
She likes to lecture others,
especially while getting free samples
of hot food all the while.
It’s all the attention she gets.
At one time, she still had big dreams
of splendiferous munificence,
she of the hilltop mansion,
wealthy and philanthropic,
sending off checks 
to do her good deeds for her.
Now the reality screams 
that she missed her chances,
squandered a spectrum 
of remote but possible opportunities,
and instead let time run rampant
like an out-of-control toddler,
messing up the well-placed toys
of careful plans, leaving her
befuddled, bedraggled, 
faded and funky and
more than a little bit sad.
She is the bag of giblets,
the one that you know is there,
yet must be removed
before progress ensues,
the one no one cares about, 
deserted and misunderstood.
She proceeds to the express line
and points out to all within earshot
that the sign should say 15 items or fewer.
Welcome to America, she mutters,
while others go about their days.

First published in Tendril Literary Magazine