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Boat

Boat:1


Reclining in the formed-plastic booth
of the garish, fast-food chain,

boat pondered two colored girls
clearing the abused formica tables.

Black, casually fastidious, boat
found them most desirable in their

ill-fitting uniforms and audio headgear.
This recluse world changed for boat

without a sign of change.  The universe
hummed its familiar threats and melodies.

Reclining in the formed-plastic booth
of the garish, fast-food chain.


Boat:2


At an empty table some boys sat down
with big pouches of French fries

and limbs waving like infused ganglia.
Boat reclined.  I looked at boat and saw

the inordinary.  I saw boat reflected
in my daughter's eyes.  We chewed

the food, sensing a forbidden pleasure.
We consumed the synthetic beverages.

Boat donned sunglasses when I suspected
the black girls of intangible things.

Reclining in the formed-plastic booth
I imagined dark, heavenly rituals.


Boat:3


The boys threw French fries and ice while
we waited for deliverance.  I suspected

the black girls held a listless and unrooted
contempt, bored with boys of all colors

and the continual delivery of bad news.
When something happened that I could not

detect with my senses, we readied to leave;
the restrooms were unoccupied.  We gathered

the assortment of packagings and disposed
of them in the embossed recepticle.  We left boat

reclining in the formed-plastic booth, wondering
if boat would do these same things too.

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