thou art
my McDonald’s
my Walmart
if Norman Rockwell were alive
he would paint you,
pay tribute to you
immortalize you in two dimensions
allow you to believe
you would stride forever
like golden arches
and prices that end in the magical, mystical 7
but alas, nothing that smells and tastes of today
or is “Made in China”
sold by blue apron clad armies
will be etched on mountain sides
you, like the Big Mac
will be recycled in short order
and surrender helplessly
to the mocking march of time