December 3, 2010

...For Ice Cream

I should have found it odd,

I suppose, that driving past
a glowing Baskin-Robbins
would make me think of you.

But now I have to admit
I want nothing more
than to use the tip
of my tongue like a little pink
plastic spoon
as I sample
the multifarious flavors of you.

From Belly Button Swirl
to Neckline Divine
I will savor your
every ounce
melt you between my lips
as I explore the subtle
smoothness of your


Neapolitan skin.

After much (intentional) indecisiveness,
tasting and re-tasting,
I will finally choose my favorite
and reach for your neck

the sugar cone I cannot wait to nibble on,
which holds the sweet, round,
perfect scoop of your mouth.

I'll do everything I can
not to let one drop go
un-tasted, even lick you
from my finger tips.

And together you and I will indulge
in the childish fun of making a mess
and cleaning it up
as if our eyes
are full of hot-sticky summer days
and there isn't a rocky road
in sight.


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