Drive-Through

vacuum noise at first covers
the sounds of car exhausts, the suction
coming from an open window,
where non-native speakers say hello
into boxed voice machines, creating a buzz
of syllables unintelligible
and our order gets lost
in translation, the hamburger arriving
in a muffin, our cherry coke mushed
together with a malt,
each package leaking, dripping sugary
droplets on leather seats,
each micro-dotted chicken nugget
splashed with mustard, while the vacuum
pulsates and sucks our arms, our legs,
through the car window,
splattering us against the money counter
where our ears and noses fill up
with catsup from ruptured plastic bags
the size of sappy meals.