I like them crispy and brown with butter mmm... That little joint like a truck stop left of the red light, east of the highway. Once the waitress let me mix jelly and cottage cheese (they were out of peaches) and it didn't matter that I walked in with just the cuffs of my jeans over my toes, it's no more complicated than that. As long as no cigarette ash falls in the batter every thing is hunky dory.
A reflection gleems in the Eye of the Serpent. Debauchorous Joy. ("Debauch" only means "to go out", after all.)
Powerfully happy, thats what this is. And I get that feeling, I'm sure it's what you were trying to evoke. I think one more stanza connecting the third one with the rest of the poem (it fits connotation wise but for all litteral purposes it's right out of left field) would be excellent. Or write 6 more stanzas. I feel like you have a lot you could say here and you just stopped after you got your basic inspiration down on paper the way you liked it. P.S. is it ok that my response doesn't have meter?
