lobster fest

all the lobsters
you can eat,
the sign
said. and corn,
and potatoes,
corn bread and slices
of peach cobbler
pie for dessert,
and tubs of butter
to dip the lobster
tails into. one
after another
being chewed and
washed down with
beer after cold
beer, all for sixty
nine, ninety nine,
tip not included.
it was a feeding
frenzy of pendulous
bellies and sunburned
faces swallowing
hard, hitting their
chests with their
fists to restart
their gorged hearts
when they stalled.
just one more, just
one more, just one more,
and then unsnapping
their jeans, before
slipping into
their polished cars
and driving off into
the american sunset.