ramen noodles require a microwave
you steal twinkies instead,
thinking how lil’ debbie wants
to
insinuate
that you are a ding dong,
a ho ho,
or a molten, indigestible square of the Devil
your salmon-tinged eyes
glance side to side
but I see you
somehow miss the phantom
of my new jacket tracing down
the aisle
behind you,
trying to be equally furtive
or somehow you figure I’ll miss
your cocoa-dusted fingers pushing
into the cardboard
while I fill a non-biodegradable bag
with worms, gummied, worms
that play pinochle in your sweetly crusted snout:
gummy worms and gelatine beetles
you fill your corduroy vest with Nutty Bars
and find the metaphor
a source of amusement
a chance to show your candy corn teeth
to the aisle you behave as if is empty
now too complicit, I freeze
when you wince at a paper cut,
slit into your hand on a pack
of frosted zingers
while you think of the ironies
even more implicit than myself
in painfully seeking pleasure,
in being punished
for the cheapest, dumbest rush,
I wonder if your blood
tastes something of cherry cordial
