Small Arms Poem by jackilton peachum
Small Arms
We were among the last generation
To know the taste of fast food-
No MacDonald' s, no Hardee's, no Starbuck's
- no KFC or doughyhot smell of Pizza Hut-
now they do say,
if you hold a piece of Chicago-style pizza
to your ear-
you can hear the crackle of gunfire in the distance!
Saturday, October 20, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: chicago,crime,satire
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The rise of fast food & crime
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
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I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 5:00:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Ditto for subject matter & theme