We're sat under the dirty yellow light
waiting for our cardboard boxes
They go outside to smoke, do I want to come?
No, I'll stay here, it's cold
and watching other people smoke is dull.
Conversation or warmth?
For once I pick warmth, and they're outside puffing
and I poke my head out and ask if I can borrow a pen.
I haven't got any paper so I grab a menu from the box on the counter.
The woman in her black hat glares at me, disrupting her staring at her all important orders
movement in front of her face that isn't an oven door.
I smile sideways and slip back to the window
Not much space on this thing,
only the white sides framing the persuasive adverts
and ORDERING FROM US HAS NEVER BEEN EASIER!
I don't really care, I never was swayed by convenience.
So click click, I use his pen
to write around the adverts
bad poems about being sat in a pizza place.
I despise the maddening fingertips in eye sockets,
sighs like a rubber breeze just used to inflate
a castle like the one in the catalogue bounce
until we fall screaming on our prepubescent asses.
and this one
This is what they call last resort.
Soles on the hard grey
Fat baseball caps and slogan on their foreheads.
Staring at me
All I want is a Mighty Meaty.
Poor menu, this isn't what it dreamed of!
Cold blue stones chuck swing bolt at me
hit my chest
bleed scream fall
So some of them aren't directly about pizza...