Saturday, January 8, 2011


The familiar menu stares me in the face
So many options, so little stomach space.
A single with everything could be it,
Then there's still the sides to get.

What really sounds good if a side of fries,
Then the words 'onion rings' catch my eyes.
A side salad proves the healthier choice,
But, "A sundae, a sundae" chants the voice.

Saliva creeps into each crevice of my mouth,
As my wandering eyes surge to the South
A grilled cheese and a butterscotch shake,
Oh man, is my stomach beginning to quake.

I reach in my pocket,
then my search comes to a halt!
With only one dollar,
I'll have to get the Special Chocolate malt.

I wrote this poem sometime in my early teenage years as a school assignment. It just resurfaced as Matt and I clean out the storage side of our basement. Winstead's is a steakburger joint in Kansas City. I am pretty sure Winstead's contains an abundance of memories for any child raised in my 'hood. It was the meeting place for post school functions, whether it be a basketball or soccer game, the Christmas program, a play, etc. It also happened to be the restaurant Matt and I patroned Senior year of high school, shortly before he gave me a rose and asked me to be his girlfriend (then we had our first kiss!) My mom is convinced that it induces labor for term pregnant woman, it worked for her at least once.

To this day, I still have sudden cravings for a single with everything and a butterscotch malt. And since Winstead's has a drive thru and multiple locations throughout the city, I can get these items whenever the hankering appears. Therefore, I can see why I felt it deserved an Ode back in my tweens and why I felt I shouldn't just toss this little work of art.

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