A Trip to a Paris Outlet Village

This vast and chattering McDonald’s
looks just like fields of golden rice beneath a clear sky.
You are a rice shoot, turned brilliant gold beneath the lights.
He and she and I, and a flock of children dancing in delight,
are the hum of insects and the birdsong circling you.

This vast ocean of happiness
has made me see how badly I misunderstood the laughter flowing to and fro.
Surely they were not laughing because they had scored a few handbags on the cheap.
They had simply crossed mountains and rivers to reach these far-flung outskirts
and found, at last, the McDonald’s they had missed for so long.