An Ode to the Lady in Front of Me in Line at Taco Bell

An Ode to the Lady in Front of Me in Line at Taco Bell, Who Put in Seven Separate Orders in a Row
A freeform pseudo-poem by Fuuta Horouku

Oh Lady in front of me at the Taco Bell line,
What hast possessed ye so?
To order such things, one at a time.
I see the list, I must confess, I peeked
When my own mental count of the orders was lost.

Seven persons, each with their own order.
Not a single order for seven persons, no,
But seven orders for seven persons.

Each order is paid for in the same way.
"Out of twenty," the cashier's voice rings out
As punctuation to each painstakingly crafted meal.
Boxes and boxes of tacos will soon fill the counter
A veritable feast, each one.

The woman behind me states that this is ridiculous.
I agree in silence.

I have come only for one burrito.
I even almost had exact change.
But alas, my morsel is delayed.

As the final receipt is laid on the stack, you gather your drink cups.
As I give my order, I see you filling them clumsily.
Your phone rings now, dear Lady.  Do you hear it?
The Cookie Monster is declaring that C is for cookie, dear Lady.

As you turn around, I finally see your face.
Middle age was not kind to you, madam.
Your orange-tinted skin is carved deep with lines.
This is a face that has seen many Taco Bells over the years

As the boxes pile up for my transient adversary, my own name is called out.
I see you struggle as your taller companion begrudgingly helps you.
Funny, I hardly noticed her.
Up until now, she seemed to play no part in this affair.
Our time is up, and I leave you two to your lives.
I hope the Seven will be kind, dear Lady.
I hope you all enjoy your meals.
Goodbye.