This is a poem I wrote nearly twenty years ago. It was relevant then, and it’s relevant now (except for one thing that probably doesn’t exist anymore). I don’t know why I chose this piece as the first bit of poetry to post here; there are others I’ll admit to loving more. Maybe I didn’t want to start off in darkness on the heels of the horror story. Maybe other poems share too much; I think poetry is inherently more revealing of one’s soul than fiction. Or maybe this is just what I’m feeling today.
American Service
One moment, please.
That is all she says
as an endless stream ensues.
Sonic boom, jet aircraft.
Each claim importance
but really they are all
One and the Same.
In scrub whites and candy shoes
and navy vests with golden wings.
With steak and shrimp
and cowboy hats
one Voice disturbingly echoes.
Swinging doors and drive-up windows
are only one single place.
At the other end, somewhere,
a person waits.
The bus is loading, the window shuts–
Ice cream trucks and books-on-wheels.
Every facet, every face.
Count your numbers, dollar for dollar.
One moment, please.
You’re next.
KJ Hunter 