Tuesday, July 28, 2026

A Poem

A Trip to McDonald’s


Take this Quarter Pounder for what it is—

a place to start, a place to be honest.

Your blue hair gives way to blushing cheeks, and 

we both know what to feel next. The script we follow

has us in mind. Glazed eyes and full bellies tell

a story of where we have been in this land of thrift.

Nothing means theft to us. Nothing tells us hem 

or haw. America is the finest place to meander 

and be made. There is a home for our rage here,

bodies to be filled and emptied, a spot on the globe

where beatings make sense and suicide makes 

its impression with baby teeth. I’m not asking you

to listen. That’s hard work. I’m asking you to settle

into the slouch of your choice and think of the ways

you could be alone. Your company means nothing 

else. Just be here with me.


Joel Fry


*Note: Hemming and hawing means being indecisive or hesitant.

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