Joe Gallagher


Rovaniemi, Finland

It looks like the McDonald's by the house where I grew up:
Worn windows and greasy people.
Although, they are wearing jackets here.
I didn't typically wear a jacket to my McDonald's in Florida.

I had hoped for arches of ice,
Sacks of deep fried herring and plastic viking hats.
Instead swarthy Finns in sweaters eat Big Macs.

At this McDonald's, we would each be an Alexander,
Swords drawn but our foes all felled—
The lonely conquerors at the edge of the world,
Knowing nothing can resist us.







My friend & I were debating whether Orlando had the biggest McDonald’s in the world. Turns out it’s 2nd or 3rd, depending on who you ask. While looking at the Wikipedia page for McDonald’s, I found a link to info about its northernmost outpost. I located a picture on Google, which I enjoyed, which in turn depressed me. That's pretty typical of the poem-finding process for me.