Ode to Chinese Wal-Mart

(*For any one of several small stores in Quelimane, Moçambique run by enterprising Chinese families)

O Chinese ‘loja’
Tireless importer of all things plastic from the Orient
Countless items in endless quantities, of questionable quality
Without you, my Little House on the Savannah
Would stand empty
No washcloths with 0% absorbency rates
Nary a stainless steel spoon that can prodigiously produce rust overnight
Nor a stick-free pan that loses its ‘teflon’ at the mere mention of utensils
O where would I find nail-polish so tiny, yet so defiant when confronted with nail polish remover?
Even when it comes in the form of oily, orange smelling cotton pads, suggesting not a hint of alcohol in its constitution
Hangers for my clothing, and clothespins too, were merely a dream before you
And so many colors you do offer!
O Chinese ‘loja’, who else can convert 85% of their store front stock to ‘Croc’ sandal knock-offs overnight?
Nevermind that you make me check my bags at the door
Your holdings are much too valuable to risk theft, this we know
Bright lights, clean floors, energizing tunes
Hark! Is that Elton John singing in Mandarin?
You inspire us to fill our lives with shiny necessities
For who could live without a miniature salad dressing bottle?
Or a hat with a double Nike swoosh?