gotta drop the fryers tonight

in the stainless silver chaos

of the salt machine
they chirp demented

during dinner rush with

nuggets of chicken mush

chips and burnt breadcrumb
as the teens make snapchats

and suicide pacts
I twist the red lever

in the metal guts

coke colour oil drains

a galaxy of crumbs

sinks and collects

into little black dunes
like a nightmare beach

fizzing and chattering
someone calls

the new kid

a faggot
in heat proof gloves

I sweep the crumbs in to

the hole with a steel stick

and flush them out

with a gravy jug
a kitchenhand

tells a story

about the ecstasy

last night
I take the oil cart

to the bin room

the wobbling blue wheels

skidmark kitchen tiles
a cashier bitches

over headset

about a customer

with an accent
I plug in the plastic snake

pump the oil

into the vat

in a moment

of peace
I get a new thing of oil

like a box of wine

full of thick piss

100% canola

australian made

I punch it open

unplug the yellow cap

and a lemon waterfall

fills the fryer

and heats up clean

like a golden bath