Poetry
Happy Meal
C. C. Russell
What the Hell? I thought I said
no bacon
or love
or some such idiot thing.
It takes a little time
sometimes
for this midget demon
to catch up.
I'll run and stop in
a whiskey stupor
and he'll know
and smile knowing
and all I wanted
was a little patch
of something
I didn't know.
He'll stop there with me
and whistle to the tune
that buzzes in my head,
say
"here . . .
You need a hand?"
and grin
like a motherfucker.