Oh how I love thee.
When I first took a bite of you
there were hallelujahs raining down
upon my unsuspecting taste buds
I reveled in your blissfully sweet taste,
a taste that is made only complete by
the soft bread layers that gets even softer
as I reach the center of your magnificence,
Your seductive cinnamon brown sugar
wrapped with the bread layers like a love-struck fool,
and the incomparable white cream frosting
that makes time go still.
In all those years though,
I pronounced you as “Cinnabun”
and for that, I must apologize.
I know now how your name is truly pronounced
and it is Cinnabon.
You’re quite a lovely contradiction
for you are so
with your 880 calories,
yet so heavenly satisfying
in the blissful smile that you give me.
But I hear blasphemous things being said about you
and it makes me angry to hear your name being defiled
by ignorant idiotic schlumps.
You are not a “fat faggot treat”,
there is more grace in a single speck of your brown sugar
than the entire silly being that is Louis C.K.
Nor are you some evil thing run by Satan,
first of all Satan doesn’t make sweets
and if he did, he can’t create the heaven that is you
so do not pay heed to Jim Gaffigan’s bitchy demeanor.
Comedians like them,
these inferior fools make fun of you
because they do not know the divine beauty
that you possess.
You are a mystical comfort healer
in all the strangest ways
every time I had
and days that just plain sucked.
I find it beautifully odd how I can find
so much joy
so much solace
I find peace in knowing that
you are always there for me
shining in your bright blue and white sign
always there to greet me with your sweet smile
in the form of a swirl that spirals into perfection.