When he enters the town –

and notices that mcdonalds has burned to the ground

he weeps – wouldn’t you? – weeps and hungers

he remembers the men standing in a circle of painted cloth

now they live in separate little gray boxes

“When was the last time you had a happy meal?”

When was the last time you were even happy?

Inquiring minds want to know

when he enters the next town, what

chance is there for any meal, let alone

ears to hear, minds to mind his mysterious

quest

for that easy to please, unremarkable self

he left behind some time, some town like

fallowed fields laid to rest

	this season done feast beheld

	wrapped to go again

Curtains are drawn, the sound of his roar the only sound

in that boxed man’s town

	a whispered anguished sigh

	dream broke spare a dime?

mourning the golden arches with withdrawing aches and shakes, he

rifles the cashier and ditches that family wagon, screaming in the drive-thru

But that was yesterday.

Now he hears whispers and a full on rumour that in the next town

	they’re marketing a brand new meal – even happier, even healthier –

        it’s a fair hike but he staggers on

maybe this time the little toy

will come with instructions written in Esperanto

the market place is silent –

        its cold square space threatening

with the refrigerator on hiatus,

        he embraces the Esky

full of beer and peyote tequila_the trees’ grin stretch the branches to breaking,

        the red rocks start barking, the thistles into nests of spitting snakes

a scene ripe for a Deliverance plot, for location scouts,

mouthing blessings to them all the burger king plots his course

And realises, with a start, that he has been here before.