Here, they drag their blond children through the door,

some on leashes

with large bare feet,

drawling wet accents

Here, Friday night after a big game

when the rest of America

is listening to Walter Cronkite

or attending an art opening,

they lug around their buck-toothed offspring

while munching on yellow-stained burgers

and greasy fries

matching their school uniforms 

matching those styrofoam boxes they drove up in

Here, Friday night, 

let’s go eat out

join in the big event

where babies scream bloody sugar

climbing and crawling on sharp edged playground slides

Here, Friday night, 

 shit friends,

let’s just head on over to the "Chow Down"

(or whatever this dump's called)

to get mutated

into even more of these well fed Texans,

tripping over each other's bellies

and stumbling along

on their coming-on-anyhow 

carcinogenic road to mass conformity

and dementia

East Texas, 1981