[a dozen cheesesteaks, a thousand fries]
[lyrics: wagner]


halfway between drudgery and the hundred-meter dash,
i stand sandwiched between fryers and griddles.
my shift extended an hour by a little league team
stopping for a victory meal two minutes from closing.

liquefied butter sizzles,
rolling down my palm as phantasms of steam
slither around my head like constrictors.
the miniature steel carousel spins before me
whipping the waitresses' slips
for a dozen cheesesteaks and a thousand fries.

i snatch them down three at a time,
and chug through the math as i rescue a black burger from the oil
and spatula it into the garbage.

the boys full and groaning, i hang my apron and i head out the back.
the manager has sold me some of the irregular items half-price.
slowly, deliberately, i eat from my paper bag as i trudge home,
filled with the underbreaded chicken fingers
and leftover browned fries from the salting tray.
i don't forget to save you half.

you are sitting on the couch when i arrive.
i pat your stomach, feel for the kick that has two more months left inside.

we calculate my hours for the week, less the black burger.
add up the bills and copayments, perform the subtractions.

i study the figures, you rub my temples,
and forcing a smile i kiss your cheek, your belly,
and pray for more little league teams.


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