Poetry

DRIVE THRU

Let’s all remember the year 1947,

not because the Kon-Tiki sailed across the Pacific, India became independent, the CIA was 

established, a UFO was sighted at Roswell and a car cost $1,500.

 

Important as all these are (and we don’t want to minimize), we should all remember 1947

for the first drive thru at Red’s Giant Hamburg along Route 66 in Springfield, Missouri.

A brilliant idea right up there with the double helix and E=MC2.

 

Us Americans soldered to the seats of our cars can now go to drive thru banks, drive thru

flu shots and STD testing and yes (why not?) a drive through Jesus Loves You outside of

Malcolm, North Dakota. There’s a menu board to choose from, along with the price

 

in dollars, bronze coins and shekels. There’s a speaker where you shout your order

to a second class seraphim or a trainee saint who are wearing plastic wings, tarnished

haloes and earbuds.

A good night’s sleep shouts one of us, a raise from my mingy boss

 

yells another and Lord keep the liquor away whispers quiet Millie in the back seat,

smelling of bourbon at ten a.m. We wait. And wait. Finally the display shows our order,

a total of 5,000 shekels. We grab our phones to Google the dollar equivalent.

 

We ask if there is a money back guarantee. The pimply seraphim with a scribble of a

mustache snickers and yawns and says possibly, who knows, except for the liquor.

That cost another 10,000 shekels and 2,000 Hail Mary’s.

 

We drive over to In-N-Out Burgers where you get what you pay for. 

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