Poultry Psalms: Cherryville Bojangles
The first week of June. The first Poultry Psalm. Guerrilla Literature poetry conceptualized, written and published 6/3/25 - 6/8/25.
When I first moved to America amidst the Chicken Sandwich wars I became obsessed. Chicken Sandwiches, or Chicken Burgers for my UK bredren, weren’t the most popular thing back in Scotland but in North Carolina? I was a huge fan and the hype was real. I went restaurant to restaurant trying to discern who had the best Chicken Sandwich, fast food to sit down, regular and spicy. I thought that one day I’d write a food guide based purely on where the best Chicken Sandwiches could be found. For now? I’m going to write a poetry collection based on my Chicken Sandwich experiences. I hope you’ll enjoy this silly little series and hopefully one day? My Chicken Sandwich Guide.
AI drive-thru interaction, Bo-Linda you were swell. You didn't wear a name tag, but darling I could tell. I ordered a Chicken Sandwich, Dry as a hockey puck. Shame Bo-Linda didn't cook it, She might have had better luck. I'm the Pope of poultry fillets, Deep fried and nestled in two buns. Call it a burger or a sandwich? Just know that I'm The One. I'm eating and I'm rating, Bojangles this is for you. I don't even regret it, You score a measly two.
If only Bo-linda made the chicken order for inventory that day, she would have sorted us out with a thicc boi.