deepundergroundpoetry.com
Fastfood Summer
Casting off the nats
Squishing the dirty grease
All full of tiny bugs and gritty salt
By the dozen they go.
They go and they go
People taking and taking
One after another.
It never stops.
Barely could call that clean.
Sickly yellow,
Like blood disease
dirty grease.
That's what we're eating.
Fastfood Summers.
Squishing the dirty grease
All full of tiny bugs and gritty salt
By the dozen they go.
They go and they go
People taking and taking
One after another.
It never stops.
Barely could call that clean.
Sickly yellow,
Like blood disease
dirty grease.
That's what we're eating.
Fastfood Summers.
Published 5th Jun 2011
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Anonymous
2nd Apr 2012 1:39pm
Delightful poem....
