No 'field office' like Burger King in the off-hours.
They even turn off the muzak to save money.
But I glance around at the other clientele:
The punchy guy in the rainbow suspenders is here.
I saw him here last time,
then again when I stopped at Target on my way home;
and there's the homeless woman with her trusty backpack
who does her daily ablutions in the ladies' bathroom.
I wonder, are these my mirror, my soul twins?
Have I eclipsed myself into a fast-food delusion,
joining this culture of nomads seeking a Bargain
and wandering from soda fountain to soda fountain?
Still, I'm happy as a child, with my free refills
a notebook, pen, book, some drawing paper
and a window out which I keep tabs
on the world going by. I feel like a king,
here in my ringside seat on Creation.
Burger King and Target are levelers of humanity. You ought to take your notebook and sit in the social security office. If you ever have business there, plan on hours...and there will be a security police with a gun and folks from all walks of life waiting for their piece of the action. Your poem honed in on a slice of humanity with humor and kindness. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have to comment that I think of Target as high end compared to Walmart. At least here in West Virginia, where I live. Good details (no muzak, alas!) , imagery, the whole package...thanks for the read.