In a wooden,
hot-looking room
with pink lights
and plates all over,
awkward men
laughed awkwardly.
Their funny hair
seemed to slip back
over their heads
as they roared at themselves.
One of them
ordered a second side
of macaroni.
Several drafts blew in
when the man in the hat
opened and closed a door.
There was a picture
of the drummer from P-Funk.
I looked at my chicken.