Golden Arches
They’re there, unmistakable.
Between burning tarmac
and burning sky.
The happy-daffodil yellow
seared into our cities.
Don’t worry, children,
You’ll never have to kill
for your next meal;
we already did it for you.
Though the fluorescents burn harshly,
And the meat burns cruelty,
And we burn our dollars,
For a fast feast
of oils and additives
and slaughtered integrity
to fuel our gorged existence.
And nothing asks why
like those golden arches.
Ignorance and insincerity,
Enshrined.
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