Banquet Fried Chicken

i don't know how to tell it

or show it

the intricacies of it being known

just a strange + stupid tendency

to want to

without reason

explain to you this situation here

i don't know

this urge

to let you know

about friday night

groceries

goddamn

what a magnificent

haul

back of some

ford truck we had

abandoned by dad

and yet

things need to get done

like friday night

groceries

such a form of heaven

unseen by bourgeois

eyes

(prior to food stamps

in this sad and silly life)

you pull together

what you got

and then go for it

when you are in

4th grade

this is heaven

in that aforementioned pickup truck

all that glorious

bounty in paperbags

flopping around

and then into your little

house

the treasures of

your night (and i really

mean this)

strawberry pop-tarts

banquet frozen fried chicken

cinnamon toast crunch

lord

have

mercy

such gold

dubloons such

beautiful newness

inside a place

of nothingness and shame

and you keep

carrying in

those bags of

groceries

thinking of hope

and plenty

thinking

of what this means

at least right

now