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the market street triangle
Strength | Patience | Courage
by rebecca eisenberg

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still another joint ReadMe and Rebecca's Rants effort

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Circuit City: Where Service is State of the Art

Circuit City
on my knees
I bought this from you
Fix it, please.

When you sold me
That warranty
There was no sign
of Tragedy.

More time in shop
than on my stand
It lives in service
Neverland.

Who cares if I
should want to view
TV for a night
or two.

You call this service
state of the art?
Break. Lose. Steal.
Crash. Boom. Restart.

I'm glad to keep
servicemen employed.
But I sure feel
A tad decoyed.

Kinkos: This Way to Office

Kinkos, yes,
my order please
I left it Tuesday.
Twelve copies?

"Eisenberg,
That's with an E ...
I Ess E En
Be E Are Gee.

A magazine,
My business card ...
Excuse me, what?
This is not hard.

When I trusted you
with my copies
I did not mean
To be a tease.

Why is it tough
to copy text?
I stand in line.
You call out: "next!"

"This way to office?"
You say, "go!"
I see your sign,
and I say, No.

Safeway: Nobody Does it Better

I walk down the aisle
with my tampons below
the carrots and salsa
I happily tow.

The douches and condoms
are carefully hidden
beneath the dry cereal
that's not so forbidden.

I wait in the line,
reach for People Mag
as you slowly place
other folk's food in a bag.

I reach for your gaze,
"Please don't do it this time!"
And try not to stare
at the cute girl in line

who is wearing plaid shorts
and reading Thoreau,
carrying a basket
of fresh tomato.

I seek out the down-low
But you reach for my cart
and suddenly my breath
leaps out of my heart

As you yank out the douches
and scream a price check
and the heat slowly rises
in back of my neck.

And you yank out the foot pads,
the acne cream too,
the midol, the hair bleach,
Abba's CD, Waterloo,

annoucing each item
you drag through the scanner
and cutegirl sees condoms
and snuffs me, in a manner.

I ask you polititely
For one bag, not three.
But you insist that
One bag is too heavy to carry.

"It's the same weight!," I declare,
"In one bag or in three!"
But you, checker, just stand
and stare blankly at me.

You load in the carrots
on top of the flowers,
Is this why I waited
miserably for hours?

You load in the condoms
right under the cheese.
Cutegirl's smile has vanished.
I am a Disease.

I pay with my credit,
Which at Safeway is wack,
since you read out my name
Before giving the card back.

And although I ask nicely
for you to refrain
"Thanks, Miss Eisenberg!"
You loudly proclaim.

The romance is ruined!
My flirt, a demise.
At Safeway a person is
That which she buys.

"Nobody Does it Better?"
Now that I believe!
And I slink back on home,
With my heart on my sleeve.