Oh garlic fried chicken
Thoa art so finger-lickin'.
Hidden from most in Phra Ram Park,
I find you like an oasis, lost in the dessert dark.
Served al fresco, riverside,
By two Thai ladies, smiles awide.
Don't look like much,
But just one touch...
Perfectly crisp, non-greasy skin,
Don't even know how to begin.
No forks, no knives, so nice,
Utensils: merely sticky rice.
Succulent, garlicky meat,
So hard you are to beat.
So moist, like tissues post-The Notebook,
What a wonder you were to cook.
Sweet chili sauce, no need,
Thao flesh too juicy, yes indeed.
Topped with fried garlic, Buddha hears your crunch,
I sit speechless and zen-like during lunch.
I try to find you next day, but you're missing,
But in my dreams, you I will be kissing.
Garlic fried chicken.
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