My love for you my love
plain potato chips cold
papery sylphlike slices
boiled in lard gone bad
dusted Dead Sea salt
rancid and nasty fat bag
held in crinkling lap.
I love potato chips
brine and lipid taste
but I can’t eat one
I don’t eat chips
anymore since bad
for you and what’s
wrong for you is for me.
Simple old choices
plain or barbecue
flat or ridged
old decisions
now convoluted
with flavors we
never occurred.
Vinegar fruits and herbs
sunflower oil Carolina
Reaper Trinidad Moruga
scorpion pink mounds
of natural moral flesh
but we must eschew
the artificial songs
for love passes beyond
thought and action sits
where we dare only reach
on a throne of thorn bush
safe from the snake’s wish
to partner with its sting
innocent birds and bees.
The Coming of the Toads 