Basking in the Glow of the Burning Golden Arches

Embracing the radiating heat from the raging flame, witnessing the end. The end of environmental degradation, of nutritional masochism, of phony promotions, of cheap plastic toys for all those over three.

How wonderful the sight would be, how easy to cleanse, to repent, to again love our earthen mother.

A villain blocks the path in a long trenchcoat of tradition, of advertisement, of promises, of minimum wage jobs for all, of convenience, and complete conformity.

I push past the comically painted revolving door, past the plastic balls, past the sterile counters, and still benches.

Now so close to winning, the end of greenish incandescent lighting just ahead no longer the acrid stench of industrial cleanser burning my nostrils.

Rejoice all, we have resisted the giant, we have defied big business, Cargill, Archer Daniels Midland, and Monsanto.

Slowly, as I turn my head I see myself alone, the rest drawn in to the fantasies of just one more satisfying golden fry drenched in the sweat of migrant workers, pesticides, and grease.

I will not give in, not to the jeering at my tofu, at my tempei, not to the mindless masses obsessed in the gluttony of chargrilled flesh, but instead help those who want to escape the processed, prepackaged, and fortified oppression.

This dream will not remain broken image in the gyre and sulci of my mind so much is at stake, too many lives, too much land, too much wealth, too much poverty. The giants must be felled.

Then, together, supported by our mother, we can all stand and bask in the glow of the burning Golden Arches.

Return to the Index of Synapse 43, Spring 1998