Kathryn Henderson '15
Miserable summer, miserly fast food joint.
Slapping tortillas down for you, fingerlicking mass
of flesh and thirst, you, baseball boy, crass
crooked teeth leaking guacamole, point
at the menu: “I want that”. Kid pig, oink,
the customer is always right! Pass
the last empanada thru the window, brass
lite leaking into plastic burrito bite! Join
me tonite, drive thru, BYOB. Come-drunk-
blondes want their beef wrapped tight
til two AM Friday: smell boozy breath,
take cash, call no cops. Grease still sunk
on skin, take off cap and gloves, light
cig, bike home, avoid swerving cars.