Every Day,

standing in artificial light,

shuffling an inch at a time

over a grease soaked lobby floor,

with the smell of meat in his nose,

the customer requests

some deep fried potatoes

and a coke.

the cashier, a man of middle-age,

faces him blankly with a look of defeat,

and holds a smile, shallow and hollow.

when the food comes,

the customer sits and sees

through the window,

that the earth,

is green and growing,

and the wind still blows…