Tagged: foodie

i said that where i

i said that where i
come from
, biscuits
are a food group –
you said there must be
a crossover
somewhere, a continuity
point where the
airiness of biscuits
and scones
are equal,
a singularity

there are chapters of

there are chapters of
my heart that require
fried chicken – yes,
i am asking you
to forgive me
for these dog-eared,
oil-stained pages –
they are most delicious

i started the morning off

i started the morning off
with chocolate. no one
has to know unless i
somehow give it away,
warn you, for example,
that the irresistibly smooth,
buttery caramel center
was a lie, or that always
eat your chocolate
at room temperature,
especially truffles
does not cover all rooms
since you’ve went away.
at any rate, there is one
less person to count the
remaining pieces,
no one has to know

this year, pear ice cream,

this year, pear ice cream,
because i couldn’t have whipped
cream, nor key lime pie –

i also couldn’t have blood
sausage, though you gave me a bite

one or eighty thoughts

one or eighty thoughts
sneak away from
me to meet
you every night – i
have surrendered to
opened windows,
brussels sprouts
in the kitchen

for six months, Citi

for six months, Citi
has been sending me
embossed invitations to
increase my credit
limit, courtesy of
age and the dental
bills that accompany
a life of chewing none
too thoughtfully. with
a bit of wear and
tear, the texture
becomes quite
delicious, that familiar
blue (Pantone 288)
laced across the
buttercreamy envelope,
like icing on a cake –
my fingers are
just as dirty

between wanting you

between wanting you
and not wanting to want
you is a gooey
mystery, with a bit
of a crunch, not unlike
the best peanut
butter – no matter
how i spread
it, the days between
the days are so
delicious, the hours
that crawl inside of
minutes get stuck
on the roof of
my mouth, so that
the words, the
important ones,
can’t get out