Sticky fingered fists filled
With sugar infused creations,
Artificial colors delight the eye,
Bright plastic packages
Crackle and crunch and squeal
Like me, dancing my way into
The corner candy store.
I had no care for muffins tops
Or six pack anythings.
I only feared the toy tooth brush
Dangling on the wall,
Warning of a date with a dentist.
Coca-cola was the hardest drink I knew.
Sugar was all I wanted in my cigarettes.
We grow old too quickly.
Back when Sunday nights
Curled my stomach with thoughts
Of frigid mornings at the bus stop,
When Mom and Dad still talked,
When I still believed in a type of “normal”,
Like a North pointing compass that
Could guide me back home.
Home - with a candy shop on the
Corner, always stocked with just
The right kind of tooth decaying,
Diet destroying, and reality delaying
Goodness to suit a child’s needs.
There is my North Star, still shining.