fried chicken

you want
a piece or two
of fried chicken
a rare, but sometimes
irresistable urge,
but it's more
complicated
than that.
do you want
it to be crispy
or not, spicy and hot,
or mild. white
meat or dark. do you
want it to go.
and for sides, rice,
beans, slaw, or
fries. do you want
a drink with that,
bottled or cup,
diet or sweet.
how about a biscuit
or a roll, or
a slice of white
bread with butter.
cash or credit.
stand over there
while we gather
your meal in a box
and bag
to go. you remember
the days when your
mother put a plate
of chicken out,
the condensation still
on the windows
and ceiling of the kitchen
from the heat,
a bowl of mashed
potatoes, a stack of
white bread
and a cord of corn
on the cob stacked
on a dish,
and it was you against
fourteen other hands
to see who gets what.
you sort of miss that.