Gimme a Love Poem, and Hold the Ketchup

Your undying devotion, some fries and a sprite,
and now that you've got my order,

together we'll consume the dregs
of the fast food industry,
putting our thoughts into colored wrappers
to be sorted more easily.

I'm just pondering the menu,
talking to you through the raspy speaker,
letting the other cars wait in line

for their own turn at fulfillment,
when you'll give them their bright paper
bags with each specific order,
a smile, nod, "thank you, drive through,"

but for now, I'll just give you my dollar,
and wait patiently for my change.

(c) Deanna Rubin 1996, 1997