Stuffed in a Bucket

At a Burger King
('Booger Fling', I've called it since I was a teenager,
thanks to a high school boyfriend who worked at one,
but not flinging boogers,)
we ordered our fast food fast.

Waiting,
at Burger King,
for my not so fast food
the food that fast inspires regret
within twenty minutes of its greedy consumption,
when the belly roils in protest
at the fatty carbohydrate whole-day's-caloric intake in one sitting,
and the consumer sighs 'I need a nap...'...

Waiting,
at Booger Fling,
Observant, as always,
I spied a great plastic bucket being hoisted across the counter.

Red, white, and blue frothed over its rim,
cloth jammed in helter skelter.

Speculating,
busy mind ever running round its wheel of thought,
I mused and wondered.
'What is that?' said I to me.
'Is it clothing? The lost and found? What?'

Waiting,
at the fast, fast food restaurant,
realization broke dim,
then burst brilliant into my dumbfounded mind,
and my dumbfounded mouth exclaimed 'Is that the FLAG?!'

Gaping
at the fast food employee,
who, faintly indifferent,
more belligerent
said to me over his shoulder 'It's not illegal.'

Gawping
at the insult
I retorted lamely 'But it's the FLAG!!'

Musing, fuming, despairing,
I wandered out to dine out by dining in my truck
a giant, gas guzzling, 1980's American behemoth
and scribbled unhappily on a torn piece of paper bag,
'Stuffed in a bucket.'