Down the street, air tight, squeeze my sides, orange lights hover, walk-a little rush, down down, turn right, across the twenty-four hour mickey d's, my favorite kebobs, pick out the mushroom, chicken, buns, potato on a stick, watch as they slather on spice, turn over again, his ears plugged, shiny face, place them in styrofoam boxes, slip them into bags, mouth burns a bit.