BUFFALO WINGS

Riding on the fire truck,
There's a traffic jam, and we get stuck.
My stomach growls, my mouth gets wet,
Though I've been fed, I'm hungry yet.

Up ahead, I see a grocery store,
And on this truck, an unlocked door.
I slip the surly bonds of leash,
And swiftly dash to my next feast.

Sifting through the produce rack,
I find some berries for a snack.
Then chocolate muffins, doughnuts glazed,
As I attack the bakery case.

I then head straight for checkout 3,
Where peanut candy waits for me.
Gliding gracefully through the aisles,
The smell of pizza makes me smile.


Gus
February 22, 2005


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