I know this is barely
more than a wanton
and crude
circumlocution—but really
nothing
knocks you over faster
when you're
pushing—grim and
windblown—past
another stiff parapet
of noon gloom
than—basically anything!
buffeted towards you
so aggressively
fried-
up hot—and wafting
cruelly from their guileful
stainless
casings-
full of peanut oil.