Grits (Aft. Elizabeth Alexander)

How I love Sunday mornings after church We would make a Southern breakfast of grits Having mine swimming in a pound of butter With several dashes of pepper and salt I would have eaten it so fast My mamma would tell me to hold on And ask me if I wanted more ' No Ma'am' I would say 'I'm stuffed' Then, getting a tall glass I pour the orange juice to the tip And in a flash, it would be gone As the juice wet my palate My mamma would look at me with disgust After, I would put my jeans, t-shirt, And sneakers Then, we would spend the day doing nothing Except riding around in the car