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Mar 282015
 

by Steven C. Babin

 

Super fried chicken, where are you today?

American fried like sweet apple pie.

We all sit disguised behind the deep fried,

National symbol . . . crispy, crunchy, mmmmmm!

I was a pilgrim in this great nation.

I was born in this land a foreigner,

I was born in this land an outsider,

The soil that is mine does not reflect,

My birthright, my tender hearts deep regret,

My country tis of thee, was not for me.

Fry me in the fryer with all the rest;

Make me forget, no more life to regret.

Make me a battered, breaded citizen.

I need a crunchy shell, shield and armor,

Guard me from the truth delicious lipid,

Engulf me, lie to me, show me magic,

Let me rejoice in the great illusion,

Keep the wool over my eyes—crispy fried.

If beauty is truth then let me suffer!

Let me live in the ugly, the darkness,

Distract me with that sweet salty goodness,

Give me a taste and I will look away,

Manipulate my soul and addict me,

To your sweet neutralizing narcotic.

Only the blind could truly want to see,

For sight destroys the former naïve dream;

Foresight is all to troubling indeed.

Is it not better to play make believe,

Than it is to have eyes clawed till they bleed?

Eat those French fries and nuggets with eyes closed;

I bet nuggets on eyes can pay death’s tolls;

I say that deep fried is as good a gold.

Can’t each coin and popper redeem the soul?

How I desire to meet the messiah,

My soul and savior the great deep fryer. 

Oh my deep fried friend, shield me from my sin.

Let the insistence of naivety,

Suffice as reason for you to forgive;

Let ignorance equate to innocence;

Treat sunglasses the same as blindness;

Neglect the fact one can remove their shades.