failures of capitalism

we soak in the bargain bins.
i find gag underwear & you find
three left shoes. the shop is full
of missing & discarded wants. you hate junk
but i am here to mother it. sweet plastic
hearts. stickers that ask, "what would
jesus do?" i picture myself making 
a junk angle in the middle of the bin.
there are ghosts who lose their faces
& have to sift through shoelaces 
just like us. no one here finds what they're
looking for. instead, we find birds.
we find tongues. a little alarm made
to alert the sky that you are coming.
the workers in the back move pallets.
more & more boxes of missed amazon deliveries
& walmart miss-fires. a baby cries &
their mother tries & fails to soothe them.
another shopper plays his own music
from the tinny phone speaker. it mixes
with the dead pop music on the loud speaker
& soon we are in a land without money.
the sucking sound at the end of the drain.
a machine that drinks until everyone else
is thirsty but still licking the floor
for air. i cradle a handful of plastic
that i won't even end up taking home. 
i leave with just one wind-up god. in the parking lot
there is a man on the phone talking to 
who i assume is his beloved. he is walking
a shopping cart back to her stable. he says,
"is there any left?"