If I talk
about the pink box
Filled
with treasures
And you
understand
Then you
have been there
To a land
a little sweeter
Where
every other street corner
And every
dingy strip mall
Has a
little unassuming shop
Where
unimaginable pastries are born
Few
receive more than a single name
It is the
word Donuts
It is the
only word needed
No further
advertising required
These are
the lands of Southern California
Where the
masses are drawn
For
beaches and amusement parks
Big
business and Hollywood
They all
find their way
To the
generic donut counter
Adorned
with a healthy looking bamboo
Casting
its spindly shade
Over a
well fed Buddha
And a
shiny metallic lucky cat
With a
waving paw and devious eyes
These totems
are an absolute necessity
If any are
missing the place is a fraud
And must
be exited
No
eye contact
Or explanation
Required
Once you
do find the right place
With all
necessary accoutrements
The denizens
of the glass cabinets
Will confirm
you have found it
The place
where real donuts are made
Apple
fritters as large as your face
And crispy
the whole way through
Custard filled
bismarcks
That require
two hands to lift
Crullers
of such magnitude
You will
swear a bulldozer left a tire behind
My advice
to you
Bring a
friend
And don’t
let the price fool you
Fork over
the five or six bucks
For a
dozen mammoth pastries
Then the
both of you lift the box
Hoist it
into your car
And invite
over a couple dozen friends
Do not
order a second box
Until the
mini-coma
From
the first dozen
Wears off
Don’t
forget the milk
Make sure
you leave a coin
At the feet of the lucky grinning
cat
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