When I speak of chips,
dear reader,
think not of computers
but of something more toothsome,
of how life melts at times
sweetly on the tongue
(or floor);
it matters not where the stickiness,
but only that it was,
and that it,
so rich in paradox,
awakened us
to dreams,
and to the irrefutable truth
that
— like ants —
there can never be just one.
For Valentine’s Day,
my gift to you,
a coveted daydream,
that it may come true:
just you and the box,
chocoholic’s lodestar
(think hyped Cookie Monster
with full cookie jar).
Your eyes glaze over,
brain turns to ganache,
it’s num-num-num-num,
a full-throttled nosh.
No weight gain or guilt,
no way will you rue it:
nobody saw
so you didn’t do it.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg for this portrait of bliss.
Birds that look like chocolate
best not peer at me
thinking I’d be passable
lunch charcuterie.
To size me up like groceries,
as though I am a snack,
disregards the dangers
of chocoholic attack.
Picture the venerable poet, dear reader, ambling through her living room with the sudden sense of being watched. She gasps and sprints for the camera, risking life and limb. But, oh, what a beauty she captured!
Did you ever in all nobleness
make promise to yourself
that you wouldn’t touch that chocolate
in the corner on the shelf?
Did you succumb to self-delusion
like some invertebrate schnook
and tell yourself you’d only
take a little look?
Maybe also sniff
of cocoa-infused air
just to be assured (of course)
the forbidden was still there?
Well, maybe just a nibble
wouldn’t be transgression awful;
it’s not as though a nibble
is criminal, unlawful!
Your hand has barely moved
when you see the fearsome worst:
security is tight —
your conscience got there first!
Not that I’ve ever done this.
OK, maybe once.
Amazements to Susan Rushton for this too-real photo of my conscience.
My calendar says —
therefore, it must be —
today is a day
for Vitamin C.
C is for chocolate
and what could be sweeter?
So Happy World Chocolate Day
to you, dear reader!
If we can find a respite from reality, surely it is in a chocolate moment.
May it be so for you, dear reader.
Beset by inane logorrhea,
I turn to time-honored idea:
when the world goes askew,
make you some goo,
the original holistic panacea.
Here we are, dear reader, in this country, in desperate need of goo. “From sea to shining sea” used to refer to the beauty of the land; now it refers to angst, despair, fear, rage, frustration, isolation, loneliness, and profound exhaustion. And it is likely true that wherever you live it is the same. You might not have an election to deal with, but you likely have illness and death and uncertainty and loneliness stalking you. I offer you this goo by way of saying I wish I could make things better for all of us.
This date is a palindrome
so I think that it is right
to begin and to end dinner
with chocolate tonight.
Then forwards and then backwards
it’s the same, I must insist;
dessert both first and last
makes glad palindromist.
Well, all right: it doesn’t have to be chocolate. I’m flexible.
Many more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
Amazement unceasing:
that dad’s my son!
Better than chocolate
is watching the fun.
A very happy Fathers’ Day to all dads who’ve stood in a shady spot
doing not much with their children,
for whom it will be a forever memory.
For presentation Puritan
there need be no defense
simplicity is paean
to mythic decadence.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Not proper damask
nor the very best platters
but let the party begin —
it’s the chocolate that matters.
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
And a happy birthday to my second-born!
Oddments 