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Chain Restaurants, Reviewed by Poems: Texas Roadhouse photo

These bluejeaned teens in shirts
that say “I ♥ MY JOB” always ask:
Are we celebrating anything tonight?
Yes: we’re celebrating getting out
of the goddamn house showered
with passable outfits on.

Every book says I’ll miss this part.
Maybe early fatherhood is a state 
best imagined from elsewhere, like this 
Texas: imagined in Indiana, deposited
before a fading Sears in Kansas. 
I love it here. The baby can’t

appreciate waiters dancing in the aisle
staring above all our heads. But I can. 
How they keep chicken breasts
this moist is probably something
I don’t want to know. And holy moly 
these green beans. I ask Kara for hers

but she says that’s an awful lot 
of sodium
. I’ve already eaten two orders. 
We’ve become parents. My parents
say they’re proud, that we’re doing
a good job. But there are days when 
I’m line dancing because I have to. 

____

Where: 2329 Iowa St suite T, Lawrence, KS 66046
Who: The Poet, Kara, The Baby, The Poet’s Parents
What: My parents and I both ordered some variation on the BBQ chicken dinner. Kara got the four-sides-as-an-entrée but skipped her usual mac and cheese because we’re still not sure if the baby has a dairy insensitivity. I didn’t get the total because my dad insisted on paying.
Why: When you find a place that everyone agrees on—poet, wife, son, grandma, grandpa—you go. You go often.

image: roadhouse


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