POEM - La Dolce Vita

I love how mushrooms figure out how to grow
in the dark, like buttons without
the aid of infrared devices of any kind.

I love how bats strut their stuff to the
sound of their own voices,bad-ass, streetwise,
with little bat cigarettes dangling from little bat mouths.

I believe that I could navigate this life with my sense of taste alone.
I learned to trust from the sweetness of things,
I learned trouble at the first sign of bitter.

The summer was the stain of Italian ice in the heat
when we walked together with caramelized hearts,
and kissed in shades of twizzler red.

You held my hand like an ice cream stick,
and savored all the melting I did for you,
against the soft red give that was your tongue.

You bit down on the stick and found
the flavor of my splintered woody remains
which reminded you of the all those trees we climbed

when you and I could taste everything.