Our Supercenters, who are
in forest towns and city jungles,
we hallow your Low Price.
Each Sunday, your flyers come
and we run, spending
the last of two weeks' labor
in stores from Beijing to Washington.

Sell us this day, money-changer,
our fiesta-ware,
knick-knacks and cheap underwear;
and forgive us the occasional trespass
onto competitors' store premises
(we want the golden deal!)
as we forgive you your human relations.
Lead us to a disposable world
and deliver us from value.

You're in all nations, all kingdoms; yours
a global market power; yours, a plastic chain
of demand and supply, long enough to lasso
the moon—
now and forever. Or until
we want our money back.