O, Waffle House
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways
I love the laminated-placemat-menu like a colorful comic book that I would happily read again and again
I love the brown squiggles that decorate your plates, though your cups no longer match
I love your hash browns smothered covered and diced
I love that you can order hash browns with words like smothered covered and diced
I love your grits with butter and just a dash of tobasco
Is that wrong? I don't know. I'm from the west....
But you let me enjoy your grits how I please
I love the way the employees become you
I love the old lady in Arizona asking "What would you like Honey?"
I love the paper-hatted pimply boy with ladle and a spatula preparing my Waffle House goodness
I love the young server in Ohio who saw me taking pictures of you and tells me "I love Waffle House too"
I love that he said "do you want a paper hat?"
Hell YEAH!
And he gave me two!
But, O Waffle House,
Why did you scorn me?
You popped up on this road trip first, like the honey filled flower that you are, only after I had just eaten
Next day I rode 200 miles for you, but you would not bloom nor show your yellow until after I had eaten again
Do the fine folks of Illinois and Indiana not love you enough to grow you everywhere?
Why did you torment me?
But I forgive you if you forgive me for being so long gone
Because in Ohio my belly is full of your goodness
And my head is happy in your paper hat
O, Waffle House, I love you so.
