| Jonathan Berger's Poetry: Poem of the Day |
| CHICKEN WINGS Don't look at me like that – I won't eat it. Yes, I eat fried foods, I love them. And I have chicken all the time, of course – it tastes just like chicken. But I won't have that: I will not eat your chicken wings. Do you know what those could do to a man? I had three brothers once. Once. All gone, now, all lost to those demon chicken bones. One, actually, lived through the choking sensation, the little death only to chomp on a jalapeño that did him in. What can I do? I have a bad history with that dark meat that you've placed before me. I love your food – I love how you cook. I love so much about your culinary ways and there's so much that you create I've love to chomp on. But baby, I can't do the wings. Don't you have any breasts or thighs for me? Your legs are to die for. But if you insist on serving those hot wings, I'll simply have to fly away. No, I'm not scared. But I will not eat those chicken wings. |