Good morning, internet people! Last night, I bought a TV like a real adult (a flat screen with a lovely USB port for my Chromecast, no less!), so things are coming along nicely. Work on my apartment is officially underway, and I expect it’ll be time to move in any day now! Because of this, focusing on my day job has gotten more and more difficult.
Simultaneously, I’ve begun to irrationally panic about not being at work every day when the new trucks come in so I can snag all the great American Eagle stuff before it hits the floor (I know, I have a problem). I recognize life will be okay without discount American Eagle goods, but I will miss the strange sense of satisfaction I get from my secret superpower, about which I have written today’s poem. Let’s get to the words, shall we?
Radioactivity has never crossed my path,
Unless a day trip to Fernald qualifies.
No spider bites inciting sixth sense,
Or mutant genes that let me walk through
Walls, grow bone claws, or teleport.
My superpower is a little more mundane,
Honed from practice more than dramatic
Incidents with toxic waste, spandex, and revenge.
I step through the associate-only door
Into the cool expanse of the back room.
One glance at the stacks of clothes lined up
For me to hang, and I sense it—
Can pick out my favorite brand with one look.
On the sales floor, I scout it out.
Useless for fighting crime or saving damsels
In distress—except, maybe, my wallet.
Note: This poem plays with what I depressingly actually do refer to as my superpower–the amazing ability to locate American Eagle clothes on the rack in a single swoop.