Gold and Delicious
It’s not the city I want, but the crunch
The sumptuous sweetness and weight and
The faint twist of things brutal far below
The waxy skin… It’s not the city I need but the
Glide under my fingertips as I lift the compact
Orb and see ‘splosions of green, yellow, red.
I’m familiar with the gloss- if I’m addicted
To anything it’s that pain along the pads of
My hand as I lift something JUST light enough
To carry. And when I get it home, everything
Tumbles out safe and I make a heartfelt game
Out of not letting anything precious bruise.
It’s not the city I think about but the sound
The orchestra of fresh and bright and crisp
And right in that moment- the structure of the
Thing forces my tight lips into a wide smile.
Not the city…the bounce of it all. The forbidden
Taste. The basket of tender things which were
Created to be enjoyed. The fleeting shelf life of
wonder…the inability to wait. The needlessness
Of waiting…to take a bite…
Out of the big apple.
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