Posted: Thu Mar 18, 2010 9:53 am
Chicken Thighs
She loves me, so she feeds me chicken thighs,
Which I have loved since I was just a boy.
I eat them 'til I'm stuffed way past my eyes,
And savor all the grease and fat with joy.
From time to time she asks if I'd prefer
A breast, a wing, a leg, or other part,
Or some concoction that appeals to her
To give our love a jolt, a stinging start.
But I say "No, my love, your thighs alone
Can gratify my animal desire."
I love the meat, the juice, the skin, the bone,
The taste that comes but from a charcoal fire.
Our love survives on one fowl recipe.
A poultry choice, but good enough for me.
She loves me, so she feeds me chicken thighs,
Which I have loved since I was just a boy.
I eat them 'til I'm stuffed way past my eyes,
And savor all the grease and fat with joy.
From time to time she asks if I'd prefer
A breast, a wing, a leg, or other part,
Or some concoction that appeals to her
To give our love a jolt, a stinging start.
But I say "No, my love, your thighs alone
Can gratify my animal desire."
I love the meat, the juice, the skin, the bone,
The taste that comes but from a charcoal fire.
Our love survives on one fowl recipe.
A poultry choice, but good enough for me.