Adam Does Poetry: Ode to the Burger King Hamburger
Inspired by recent events, I bring you my latest feat of literary awesomeness. I need not say more…
Ode to the Hamburger
The Steakhouse XT gets all the pub,
The Double Cheeseburger; the restaurant wire’s ear.
While the Double Whopper is quickly loved
By all those fatties both far and near.
(Even the freaking Whopper Jr.
gets its own commercial)
But in Salt Lake International
where a Squatters burger is 10 bucks and damn Sbarro wants three fifty for a mediocre oil-drenched slice and
there is no way my thrifty college butt is paying for a prepackaged “gourmet Italian”panini-type number;
I see again the glorious mark of one Mr. George Washington plus
nine honorable Mr. Abe Lincoln’s (two of which I found on the floor),
beckoning me onward to 1.8 ounces of slightly sweet and smokey 80/20
Wrapped in a tangy-sweet-sour blanket of industrial dills and old vinegar and
high fructose corn syrup. No cheese required. Mayo? Unnecessary.
Even the slightly soggy-squishy bun
is heaven sent.