a night at the drive-in

i think i'm still recovering

from

the drive-in food i ate as a teenager.

i haven't yet

digested

the loaf sized shrimp rolls

with sweet sauce,

or the floppy, soggy hamburgers,

or grease laden fries.

the gallons of coke are still inside

my arteries, clinging on

like sticky mud.

the dawn to dusk marathon

was the worst.

the worst five hours

of your life.

especially if you were on

a date, there was only so

much kissing and groping

one could do, before

exhaustion set in and a red

rash appeared on both

your faces.

whoever invented the four snap

bra should be shot.

you needed a degree in mechanical

engineering to figure it out.

the movies weren't much

to watch either.

B films with Peter 
Fonda, and Burt Reynolds.

Maybe Dean Martin

with Raquel Welch.

occasionally there'd be a

Swedish film with subtitles,

women in bikinis playing

badminton, by then though

you were half asleep,

with the lame garbled speaker 

thrown

out the window.