twelve peice fried hard

inspired by a song

to part tenderness down the middle

let the natural essence be held and savored

as this voice suggests not wasting the content

yet it fails to comprehend how sweet it all is

but I didn’t cause you are the dozen

 

like the succulence stripped from the inner vine

of a honey suckle flower…one drip

but don’t yearn for a second

wanting to beg at the vacillating power

 

 

hoping it spills the rest…the way I want you smack dab

center of my hands

smell the crisp aroma of organically grown pieces

though you are not really a bird still the finest of your gender

tall enough for me to reach on tip toes

 

coke colored to climb

with snap of refreshing

I really don’t like comparing you to edibles and libation

I really do love rationing you little by little

saving some for later but not now

 

favorite tart green apple

to think there’s not an account of formal introduction

simply I am aware it’s gone happen

 

in the meantime I’ll marinate in comfort of  the decadence I imagine

 

and take that with fries