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China
Buffet, Urbana, Illinois, like
kids
in a candy store, my fellow
Americans
stuff their faces on a lurid
strip swept
over by cars, insects on a
carcass.
i sit back & watch, wishing
my camera
worked, wishing i hadn't let
sarah talk
me out of buying a new one at
any
of the many big box electronics
stores we saw,
red signs in the night, so i sit
back & memorize:
the grossly obese moving tables
to squeeze in,
a teenager making funny faces
for his date,
forks poked into pink open
mouths working
at mounds of food heaped up on
plates,
the frightened look of a young
father
just counting the days, the
gray-haired man
collecting food for his
wheelchair-bound
wife who waits at the table with
more dignity
than the rest in this place and
i get all weepy
inside any time i see kindness
so i look away.
i eat 2 plates, 2 bowls of soup,
a coffee with some
vanilla soft serve pinched off
like a turd. we pay,
i poo, and the toilet flushes
blue. it feels good to
get away, back on the
interstate. it's something
like 60 degrees, a record, more
climate change,
and no one's going to do a damn
thing to stop it
b/c it's already too late, 240
million Americans
treating the planet like an all
you can eat buffet. |
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