The Sonic Chronicles part 1

The first of a collection of poems about my ordeal working at Sonic

"Hear at Sonic we treat
Oil as if it's Liquid Gold"
As my manager proudly states 
this regurgitated saying 
I die a little inside.
Better if it were called 
Liquid heart disease rather than 
Idolized and venerated. 
Curse that currency of fats and fluids
That slowly kills all who consume it, 
And greedily burns the dreams of all
Who toil in it.
I sigh and drop two more baskets of fries
" Oh my God what are you thinking!? That's too many fries!!"
My co-worker screams, as if
Two minutes from now she won't order
Me to cook more fries.
In liquid gold,
We not only cook America's fast food
We also prepare it's  staunch contradictions.

 "Liquid gold" looks more
And more like
Copper every day 

Reviews

[just rose.]

Finding poetry in a fryer is a rare feat, but damn, you've done it and made it beautiful and profound.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Clever way to pit an argument against those tycoons that are ruthless, a valid look into society endless search for riches, a fantastic piece, well done.

[Sunni Davis]

This is very clever and fun. I used to work at a Wendy's so I can slightly relate to the liquid gold looking like copper part.