10/21/2022

Hey Turkey Leg,
I might try cutting you off, cold turkey.  I want most of you all to myself.  You just came out of the oven.  You are actually smoking hot.  I honestly feel like I’m in the danger zone dressing you up  with rolls, margarine, salad and gravy.

I just want some alone time with you where I feel safe explaining to you how I feel about you.  I think about you rising from my sheets every freaking day as I do every freaking night.  I want to rip off your skin and chomp on that first.  All my affection for you gets me drilled with upset faces.  Tell ‘em not to look if they don’t want to witness my ability to be a kiss up.  Fisting that bird is all I want to do.  Cut the breasts, give me a fatter platter.  Give me that broad’s cutthroat gravy dish, that moat is where I want to dock my boat.  I want to dip my roll in her soul.  Cranberries?  Seconds?  More steaming hot pumpkin pie?  Keep all that subpar deliciousness to yourself, once I see that bird, I end up hiding my face, shy.