As at the mall masses of food style junk, we eat American...(2001)
poem by Peter Menkin

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People eating at the mall, see them
do so with tastes for tacos,
MacDonald Meals, Chinese specials,

Pizza and air baked french fries.
Enough foods like junk; I ask
where is the hamburger, or hot dog.

A man sitting across from me
eats a sunday with ice cream
in the bottom and syrup atop
all in a tall papercup confessing he
is a diabetic and cheating
his body, not immune to sugars

but carnival like drawn to join
the rest who like me line up
for American foods overpriced.

How do we survive this stuff
that we put in our bodies, filling
open mouths like hords yearning

for fast junk food akin to pesty
excellent restaurants whose specialty
is good service and excellent design
in elegant yummies eaten fashionably
by style. Food as art.

We do love to sit and eat
even a bowl of soup, in a good restaurant,
or as at the mall

masses of industrial design for imbibing
Orange Julius or Burrito Supreme
$4.39 and prices for a whole meal.
To go or here is the question asked.
Mall food, fast ubiquitous--just junk,
fascinating obsession to fill stomachs.