the man working at the drive-thru asked her what she wanted, and she said the usual burger and soda. he nodded and told her to pull up. she got her food and handed him his bills, and then he closed the window and put his head in his hands. it was the slow hour in the middle of the night, and nobody else was pulling up. all the cooks had already left, and he alone sat in the empty kitchen, surrounded by bags and burgers and fries, head in hands, crying.
the man working at the drive-thru was never cared for. he was a faceless robot to most, a voice over the speaker, a polite civilian in uniform.
but the truth is, he's a person.
he has a story. he had a girlfriend yesterday, maybe not anymore.
the other faceless ones, the salespeople, the telemarketers. the drive-thru man could only connect with them.
and so he put his faceless head into his hands and sobbed, out of empty eyes.
and he opened his hollow mouth and no words came.
and he continued to be faceless, for as long as he lived...
which would not be much longer.
YOU ARE READING
Poems - because words can be beautiful
Poetrypoems - because words can be beautiful === The more serious and less traditional of a duo of ongoing poetry collections. It's other half is shallow and your simple rhyming book. This one is just a pile of thoughts and emotions on a page, not rhyming...
