Where The Mild Wings Are

The night Matt wore his jersey and made mischief of one kind

and another

his broski asked for mild wings
and Matt said “I ATE THEM UP!”
so he was sent to Edie’s to get more food.

That very night in Matt’s car his stomach growled

and growled

and growled until his hungry self could take no more
and the drive became unbearable

and a pickup rumbled by nearly cutting off poor Matt
as he drove off up Best and Knab

and way up Clark past J.P.’s
and almost over a roundabout
to where the mild wings are.

And when he came to the place where the mild wings are
His stomach roared its terrible roar as he opened up the door

and smelled a wonderfully saucy scent and licked his salivated lips

‘til the cashier said “HELLO!”
and finished up his order

of 12 dozen chicken wings without celery on one
and he was amazed and called Matt the most wild thing of all

and made him king of all mild wings.

“And now,” yelled Matt, “let the wild rumpus start!”

“Aw crap!” Matt said when a Beyoncé song postponed a jam sesh in his car.
And Matt the king of all mild wings was hungry and wanted to be where
he could try to eat them all.

Then all around his little car
he smelled good things to eat
so he stopped before turning onto Legion and pulled over his car.

But the mild wings cried, “Oh please not yet – your friends await – they too are hungry so!”
And Matt said, “No!”

The king’s stomach roared its terrible roar as he opened up a box
and smelled a wonderfully saucy scent and licked his salivated lips
and when it was gone he reached into the console for a wet nap

and drove back almost over a roundabout
and past J.P.’s down Clark
and down Knab and Best

and into the light of his very own family room
where he found his friends waiting for him

and the wings were still hot.

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