A family sits across the way,
They’ve been on ATV’s all day,
And now, the sun gone from the east,
They pause in quiet, famished feast
To dine on every beastly sinew
Pulled from Wendy’s dollar menu.
What now? On feet like giant roaches
The father of the tribe approaches.
Should I be scared? My breathing quickens.
But in his hand’s a plate of chicken.
“We have to go” the man confides.
“We’ve many miles still to ride,
And can’t bring food, so I thought, ‘Fuggit.
Perhaps that dude would like our nuggets.’”
He pauses, judging his intrusion,
Then rushes straight to his conclusion:
“So how about it, my good man?
Would’st take this chicken from our hands?”
With thanks, I take the proffered plate,
Then watch them leave, lest they be late.
The blacktop swallows their departing
Leaving me alone, and starting
To wonder at this happy chance,
This fate, this weirding circumstance,
That’s crafted such an interlude
And gifted me with free fast food.
Oh, glorious riders of the roads
Who travelled far from their abodes
And graced me with this pleasant meeting
I sing your praises while I’m eating!
