The Fourth Month
The Fourth Month
by Le Hinton
i don’t mind pretense
until it stops pretending
like the heartiness of stone soup
lying dormant in a rounded stomach
after the feast of fools
but often it is the only item
on the menu and the holes in my pocket
preclude eating at McDonald’s
think of Lorca hidden inside la fresca
at a tapas restaurant
before a smiley-faced tapeworm
stretches out for comfort
unexpected yet true
one man gets a pass to enter
the green fields in Brooklyn
another bleeds red in Memphis
luscious and forlorn
if you ask Thomas he’ll sell
you a fork at the sale price
with proper ID
but will keep the spoons for himself
i like this poem Le. it inspired me to find a mcdonald’s picture to put with it. there were so many good ones, but this mcdonalds ad from India creeped me out so much i had to go with it. -editor
My only thought is this: the more I watch tv, the more I am convinced that our country is run by Nazis.
I had the same reaction to the picture, initially, but it goes so well with the poem.
Thanks