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America, You’re So Naive, You Probably Think This Poem Is Against You
I Pledge allegiance to… Gathering material for this poem, he Googles ‘the frequency of American takeout’, and quotes,
“51% of Americans use delivery services…
26% order takeout or delivery at least once a week…
delivery (has) been growing 300% faster than…”
… the flag of abandoned intuition of cooking homemade meals
as a gesture of love.
[I object!]
He’s startled as his word processor yells those two words.
“What?” he says to the poem.
[I said, I object! The food industry is simply encouraging cultural integration by making the culinary arts more accessible to a wide variety of individuals who wouldn’t normally be exposed to such cultures.]
He thinks about all the times he used Uber Eats, the drivers were mostly minorities, but he doesn’t write that because it’ll make him look bad, so while the poem’s objection may be wrong, he’s guilty of hypocrisy.
Making a meal for someone used to be a nurturing act.
Now it’s an obligation of strangers.
One nation under God, forcing workers