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      September 11, 2020How I Survive Without a Prime MembershipT.R. Poulson

      Let’s say I need a thingamajig that flips
      and slips and grips and nips. A tool,
      perhaps, or just a treasure. Those trips
       
      to stores now obsolete, I simply Google
      a key phrase of action or appearance
      sought. Amazon appears atop the whirlpool
       
      of websites listed (of course), coherence
      constant in their quest to draw me, lure
      me and my credit card. Perseverance
       
      pays, and I discover that a simple tour
      with clicks or swipes pays dividends.
      The thingamajig has a name, obscure
       
      perhaps, but now I know it! I look up trends
      (using the real name for this thing I covet)
      and go to reviews to see who recommends
       
      Brand A over Brand B, and why they love it.
      Now, with confidence, I search once more
      and (fully done with Amazon, sick of it,
       
      I leave it like last year’s textbook, stored
      for future research), a click or two, I find
      an exciting new company in which to pour
       
      my hard-earned dollars. I may be resigned
      to pay some extra pennies for shipping
      or wait a week or two, but I don’t mind,
       
      and I don’t have to be a member, committed
      to a CEO who makes more per minute
      than I take home all year. Life seems rigged,
      but I’m happy. I order my thingamajig.

      from #68 - Summer 2020

      T.R. Poulson

      “I write poems while on the water. I don’t mean in a Jesus Christ, walking on the water, kind of a way; what I mean is, I often compose poems or stories when I’m far, far away from a computer, device, or even a piece of paper. So many times, the poem disappears before I ever write it down. A mentor once told me that a truly good poem will not go away; it will find a way to be written. As Prime Day loomed, I conceived this poem while windsurfing in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, the San Mateo Bridge in the background, while crashing on shove-it attempts. I kept thinking about how shove-it rhymes with covet.”

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