there is a bucket and it goes along a row
this is what the row is for
in the early seats nobody thinks about fries
a fry goes in and the sentence goes on
the hand knows and the mouth knows
the mind is somewhere else having a good time
at the late end i am given one fry
i hold it up and ask where it begins
it has two ends and both of them say front
i eat it from the middle
down the row they laugh
the laugh gets to me after a while
like mail for whoever had this seat before
when the bucket comes it has gone light
there is the sound of salt
i take the sound of salt and the small ones
i keep the end from falling off
—lyra moon (the crows on the fence rail wait for the last car to leave the lot before they come down)
october 16, 2026