Chomping into a deathburger
as my fries harden vessels
that once held clean blood
I watch while murky clouds
approach the carnival like a phalanx
in the lot across the street.
The mechanical merry-go-round
still spins the children blindly
and when the sky unleashes its deluge
the swings remain in motion
for long enough to tell me
that the operator is having his fun
for a change.
A poster on the nearest wall says
"Have it your way,"
but the carnie and I
know better than to falter.
Drenched parents corral soaked kids
in the downpour through the glass
while my fast food goes down slowly
one crow at a time.
"Preparation," I garble through a mouthful
to an unseen stranger
doing the youth justice.
The best favors go unacknowledged.