Substance for the Masses

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

The corner store

Is the drug store

I hear we were born to consume.

The pharmacist stands behind a

Counter of laminated scratch tickets.

The dealer of shelves.

Shelves stocked with doses of:

Sugar, hydrogenized corn starch, high fructose corn syrup, sodium acetate, acetate acid,

Wheat maltodextrin, vegetable oil, and lactose.

 

The corner store

Is the drug store

I hear we were born to consume.

To my right

I see a magazine rack.

Like a gaping mouth-

Stocked with ravenous teeth.

“Brad’s secret life!”

An impacted tooth screams at everyone.

I wonder how secret “Brad’s secret life” is.

Splashed across the cover of US Weekly.

On every magazine rack

In every city.

 

The corner store

Is the drug store

I hear we were born to consume.

Should there be a limit to how many chocolate bars one can buy?

What if the customer, in a desperate, pitiful act of self expression;

Swallowed them quickly?

Shall we make a law?

Shall we correct this bug?

After all, chocolate- Food for that matter, is simply a drug.

A grouping of chemicals and substance.

Dissolved on the tongue tip

Or stomach acid trip.

 

The corner store

Is the drug store.

Eating up junk is a drug.

Eating up the tabloids is a drug.

I hear we were born to consume.

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One thought on “Substance for the Masses

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