Sticky Sweets
for T.L.C.

afternoon tea with Tia
tear her lightly buttered toast

munch her peanut butter cookies
crunch her chips

how far have I gotten away
from desire
for her legs about my waist
about my neck
my face in her water melon

until the season of such fruit
to split and eat was over

perennial though
what she grows, what I’d pick

I’ve picked the right girl
after all, needle without eye
not my draw

I’ve selected a little door
which leads certainly
to heaven on high

I might have to get there
upon hands and knees

I don’t mind creeping
I don’t mind crawling
through her melon patch

until larva trickled down


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
2:16 p.m. 22.01.08