American Shame

A steaming stockpot smoothly brewed
Behind the kindly man in view
He took our orders cordially
(We chose "Beef Teriyaki", it's vital to note.)  
His soft-sand irises set in somber eyes
 
So we awaited our savory treat
We settled into unforgiving food court seats
Reviewing our day's receipts
Ogling other pleasing patrons in their teens  
 
Piquant bowls of delicious draft came
Delivered along with obliging expressions
The nice man plainly holding hopes
That we'd tell our friends
And would not be singular diners
 
Somehow his demeanor disclosed defeat  
 
Sprouts spanned the soupy surface
Little crisp logs that evaded chopsticks
Strips of beef bottomed out in the depths
The broth a merger of tasty meats  
Mentions of lemongrass swept past our teeth
Onions of green bobbed tenderly through the fragrant fray 
On the side poised wedges for limey spray
 
The herbal key though we neglected
Leaves like mint...  
With a bite of basil tone
(What it was we didn't know)  
Cretinous kids we failed to realize
That what we ate was actually pho
While peppers freely flushed our cheeks
We were hungrily unseeing
Ignorant
And arrested by adolescent appetites
 
I have not returned to the tiny shop since  
(If I go again I'll be different)  
But only by way of chance
Still, the sweet man's cider eyes still pattern my stores of guilt
 
He was never simply a poor anomaly
But a very dear brick 
Weighted with whitewash
To be set in the stockade of western society
Vending gems under comfortable terminology  
To banal tastes and hasty twits
Catering to our blind complacency
 
For he would be painfully aware
That "pho" is something strange
And evokes bad jokes with graceless names
 
For the beastly of us, treasures are tamed
 
And we're too deserving of our diluted world