Corner Booth, Please (Fast Food Observances)

Little girl's giggle,
gaggle of geese in the parking lot,
four-hundred lb. Man
with a tray of large fries,
two for one
with a large Diet soda
and the Wisdom of Yoda
written in Stars
on a Blue-Black Horoscope Sky
that glows in the dark
for only one dollar more
as the Junkies come in
through the side door,
unseen by the Counter Staff,
poorly placed it seems
but don't think Heroin Addicts
were added to the Scheme of Things;
year ago who would have Dreamt
of such things?,
venous sprays of red
splattered in fast-food restaurant
bathroom walls?...

Across the Breath of America,
smell the Death of America;
the acrid odor,
the Pin Prick Pecking Order,
the Walking Dead,
World-weary Crack Heads,
making more money begging
funny, but true,
than working a minimum wage job
the same poor slob
who just looked down his nose
and barely took note of you
until he asked you to choose
to leave or be hauled in by Five-O;
your choice, Aqualung,
so move along,
Baker Street Muse...
April 8, 2015