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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1132841-Cinnamon-Sins
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Biographical · #1132841
A pause at a small cafe
"World's Largest Cinnamon Buns."
Just off Highway 16
waited a pure slice of heaven
deep fried and sprinkled
with confectioners sugar,
and advertised
by a neon sign.

A twinkling bell
announced our arrival
in an air conditioned haven.

A welcomed rest
after spending
four hours in 90 degree weather
at 4330 feet
wandering around the
Mount Rushmore monument.

I don't remember much
about the cinnamon buns.
Emily and I cooled off
and chatted with the locals.

Emily drank three root beers
and a pitcher of ice water,
as I nursed two Miller Lites
and flirted
with the blond waitress.

"World's Largest Cinnamon Buns."
Just off Highway 16
waited a divine creation
deep fried and sprinkled
with confectioner's sugar.
A neon sign pointed to our heaven.
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