The drive from here to McDonalds
is longer than I’d like,
but I’ll make that same drive everyday
for chocolate shakes and fries.
I’ll climb aboard my trusty car
and let his engine roar–
that I might buy a full on meal
and make it large (’cause more).
I’m far too old for happy meals
but ne’er too old for toys,
so here and there I’ll order one
and say, “It’s for my boy!”
The servers, by now, know my face
and the order it belies–
I might as well just pitch a tent
I’m here most all the time.
Yes, when I espy those golden curves
against a rainy sky
my heart doth swell with joy (and fat)
I’ll eat there ’til I die.