Is it so wrong I keep thinking about chicken and waffles after just one random encounter at little skillets? The chicken was so tender they must have been raised in some beautiful land where a hug is given out for free, waffles so sweet I strongly suspect they did something unnatural, not to mention illegal in most states, with donuts and drinks so stiff years of yoga would still make their downward dogs look like a plank. I sit in bed conjuring up the memory of piles of food before me with a burning drinking making it ways down my throat and wonder again and again, “Is this wrong?”
