Fast Food

As the hours mould to evening's pace,
franchises ignite their roadside emblems,
and lure customers, saturated with lurid ads,
carrying honest hungers or not.

You face the mechanical smile,
their pale courtesy involves you;
eventually your chosen reproduction is presented;
and you eat the imitation meal
among the cunning decor, or you smartly leave.

The insipid dinner suits the hurrying adult;
swanky teenagers giggle between mouthfuls and rumours;
an old man huddling over murky coffee in a foam cup.
Children are prey to the magic of merchandise,
and weary parents suffer the tearful bribes.