GAS STATION CHEESEBURGERS

When your day’s been lost in hot pursuit
Of victories unwinnable
And you’re wandering the Kwickee Mart
In search of food din-dinnable
Disdain ye not their cheeseburgers
(Their side effects are minimal.)

The bun is hard, the meat is cold
The cheese is petrochemical
The whole thing’s overheated
Like an anti-war polemical
But it slides right down your throat
With no icy apozemical

It represents a learned choice
This bulletproof comestible
The hot dogs on the roller grille
Are often indigestible
And six bits for a Snickers bar?
Good grief! That’s just detestable.

Add pickles, should they suit your taste
And onions by the barrelful
Some mustard, ketchup, if you please
Though heed these words most direful:
Go easy on the viscous stuff
It glops if you’re not . . . uhh . . . carrelful.

Then give the clerk your pair of bucks
The price is most agreeable
And go and park out in the back
(Or elsewhere you’re not seeable)
Eat heartily, then brush your teeth
To remain go-near-me-able.

Haute cuisine you know it’s not
But easily achievable
And you’ve paid more for food less good
(That circumstance so grievable)
Then wait an hour; there’s one thing more:
The burps are unbelievable.