If ever a Smithie were stranded
in a desert and hunger-stricken
I believe their thoughts will have landed
on our beloved sandwich: fried chicken.
Nectar of the gods; food of the soul—
even a staunch vegetarian
would swallow the sandwiches whole and
disagreeing is just contrarian.
CutterZ has blessed our mouths and tongues.
A fried chicken sandwich hugs our guts
intimately eaten by olds and youngs
and is twice as good when leaving our butts.
Hey there chicken sandwich (fried not grilled)
you’re in my dreams with buns that convex!
You make my mouth water and leave me thrilled,
I would fuck that chicken sandwich.
To join the Paradise Ponderer poetics division, call 605–475–6959 and leave a message. We'll get back to you once we finish our fried chicken sandwiches. We promise.
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