My lips are burning from the Buffalo wing sauce.
I still want to try the spicy chicken wings at this Chinese restaurant in Chicago.
The first time I ever ate chicken wings was when I was working at JR Miggs in Columbus, Ohio.
We bask in the complex simplicity of our lives when what we need to be doing is asking the hard questions like why is everything so messed up.
We need to wake up and smell the coffee and begin wrapping our heads around the fact that capitalism is failing us and democracy is a big fat lie.
What happened to the division of church and state? And why are we allowing any religious group the right to decide our rights for us? Jesus Christ was a teacher and a Jew. Not a politician or a Christian.
I don’t have a clue what this poem is about or why I started talking about chicken wings and then morphed into how fucked up things are.
Perhaps the state of the world and the state of my chicken wings has something in common, or maybe I am just losing my mind one tasty chicken wing at a time.
I got extra bleu cheese dressing to bath the Buffalo wings in. I must admit that biting into a chunk of bleu cheese and then tasting that flaming hot Buffalo wing sauce is quite a diabolical and richly rewarding combination.
Soon I’ll be returning to Chicago, and I really do hope I can talk my friend into returning to that Chinese restaurant in Albany Park because their spicy pork is damn near as good as it gets.