Rotisserie chicken. What a funny word(s). Its the kind of thing I'd like to put in a ridiculous poem because I write ridiculous poems and nothing serious. Things like rotisserie chicken, nail scissors and Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits album are all reasons why I will never be a serious poet.
It is impossible for me not to be attracted to these strange things. I have difficulty making putting them in literature because they make people laugh, therefore I write mainly humorous things. But when I fail while trying to write something serious while using rotisserie chickens, I usually sabotage the piece by ending it with something like,
Shout out to my homies:
Dis one's for you.
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