Tiny brown imperfect spheres roll and roll on the desk.
They come to a dizzy stop,
Greeted by the light from the lamp,
Looking like gracious
Opaque pearls, like miniature
Polished dinosaur egg fossils.
It takes less than twelve seconds to turn
Views into memories,
Reflected light into
A subtle crunch.
The joys of life.
Chocolate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Chocolate with crushed almonds
Like a seductive piece of
Plywood,
Bitter chocolate with sweet bits of orange,
Chocolate-flavored
Powder
Refusing to melt
In a bowl of cold milk.
Precious maroon liquid
Flowing into a paper cup
In cold metal hands,
Bashful boxes pucker up—
Give me a kiss,
Give me everything you’ve got—,
They die quenching a yearning
No Aztec king could picture
In the bitter seed trade.
Tiny imperfect spheres roll and roll in my mouth.
It takes less than twelve hours to turn
Memories into pain,
Beautiful opaque pearls into
Regret and flab.
The joys of life.