Monday Poem--"Vending Machine"

I have never abused a vending machine of any sort.
Oh, I've given them a gentle nudge a time or two,
when the bag of chips, after I had already paid its ransom,
suddenly changed its mind and broke its own fall
while I could only watch in dismay.
"Okay, then," I once thought, "I'll ransom you again.
Perhaps the brownie above can entice you to drop."
But I hadn't known that you felt so strongly
about staying right where you were.
Then, and only then, did I lean against the glass,
hoping that the two of them, suspended in air,
might be persuaded to tumble down together.
Nothing came of it.
But rather than become a scofflaw,
attacking the machine with a fire extinguisher
and madly scooping up the booty,
I became a philosopher, wandering away
and wondering if this were not a sign
that I was to eat right, exercise, get more sleep.

Now once again I find myself here.
Once again my chips and cookie hang
weightless in space, mocking my naivete,
all but hooting at my simple minded faith
in Hansen Vending Co., trusting them
to keep up their end of the bargain,
to honorably carry out a simple economic transaction
when all that I had asked was to be treated fairly,
with the dignity due
an admittedly doughy, but nevertheless very hungry, man.
And now I feel a shiver of excitement as I look this way and that,
and reach for the brick someone left as a doorstop,
realizing that, for me, a whole new life is about to begin.