Eating Fried Chicken

I hate to admit this, brother, but there are times When I’m eating fried chicken When I think about nothing else but eating fried chicken, When I utterly forget about my family, honor and country, The various blood debts you owe me, My past humiliations and my future crimes— Everything, in short, but the crispy skin on my fried chicken. But I’m not altogether evil, there are also times When I will refuse to lick or swallow anything That’s not generally available to mankind. (Which is, when you think about it, absolutely nothing at all.) And no doubt that’s why apples can cause riots, And meat brings humiliation, And each gasp of air Will fill one’s lungs with gun powder and smoke.