So many stores as I
stroll down the street.
Each one enticing; I
struggle down the street.
Keeping my urges under
control is easy for most.
But my control will blunder
when I see the cinnamon toast.

When I see the candies,
confections, the cakes.
When I see apologies,
misconceptions, mistakes.

Still, the body speaks
on its own - my nostrils
they cry out to the scone.
It sits innocently, sits
masculine, on its silver throne.
The alluring rays of sun
penetrate the window,
making the idea forever sparkle.
Cajoled, I enter, only to
take a peak. Surely, I'll
receive charcoal, the saint
will know I've grown weak.

Still, the body speaks
on its own. My eyes are now
seduced by the ice cream cone.
And not just this, but
much of that too. Why
did I come here? What
can I do? There are bins
of candy, racks of sugar;
Loads of toothsome shandy...
Outside awaits my lover.
My lover holds my heart;
In love; he holds my key.
Glad; Grateful of him I am.
I must deter...

If only I could
do as the seductive hot fudge
pleases, and, with a coo
in delight, take it all in my
arms, pressing it tight,
against my breast as I
travel to and fro
to the topping bar where
those cherries will undergo
much tasting and
devouring while the syrup
I take by means of siphon.
And just when we believe that
I am done, I'll run
to the candies, and the honey buns.
I'll imbibe the hardest sweets
while clutching the softest dough.

But when my lover sees all I eat,
he will undoubtedly go.