Dear Hot Wings (ode)

Once in a while, on a Good Friday, 

I might get the chance to have you. 

 

To see you fall into the smokey sauna, 

Brings sweet pleasure to my bubbling taste buds.

 

I love hearing your sweet sizzle,

When the temperature is just right. 

 

Deciding which beautiful colors, I want to paint around you. 

Spicy red, medium orange, or mild brown. 

 

The feel of your hot surface, eating away at my fingertips,

Because I refuse to wait on you to cool. 

 

Your spicy aroma making my nostrils flare, 

Before you even reach my lips.

 

The chewy tasts, so smoothe, 

It fills me with delight after each bite. 

 

But then you leave, 

Only to be replaced by another just as perfect. 

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