Sport 18: Autumn 1997
The Fast-Food Restaurant
She eats two pies over
the morning paper, blouse gaping.
Zak, says her left shoe. Someone screams.
Clusters of balloons hang under
the strip lighting like invaders
in the system. There are odd purples
among the pastels. Small kids
swim in a pool of plastic
balls, weightless again.
Older ones hurl themselves
down the slide or hold
territory at the top. A boy gets green,
foaming liquid in a cup. Look
inside here, he shouts. I know how