On Candy Lane

Rikki Santer

My scribbled life
lines up—smudged
frames in photo booth
cartoons—me wearing
low hats, squinty eyes,
candy cigarettes between
my powdered sugar lips.

There’s no room
for ambush here.
I had it coming
rolling in honey.

Taffy dreams most nights
that stretch two and two
together, bon bons inside
bon bons that lead in,
lead out to sticky stick
men, women nougats,
souvenirs of sweet tooth
that has taken me this far.

I seem to only see them
when they see me.  Sharp-edged
rock candy in the alleyways,
Red Hots under tongues
in constant motion,
parable of saccharine okays.

Still, constellations of lollipops
pull me, their swirls of
wild color. And the fairy floss
of cotton candy can send me
hovering into the faraway
milkiness of Milky Way.

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close