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Chanson de Nuggets de Poulet

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 such happy chance,

This fate, this weirding circumstance,

That’s gifted me with free fast food

And sparked a fun poetic mood.


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