~~~For Joe, the man who has owned my heart for sixteen years.
We sat cross-legged and wide-eyed by the fire
As the book was placed in our lap.
It was heavy and full and sparkled with foil.
Each roll bound with blood-red cords
We could hardly wait to pull.
The first roll split
With our anxious fumbling. Round rainbows
Littered the hearth. There was no way to know
How many rolls remained,
And we shoved the pieces in our mouths
Without really tasting them.
I wanted to tear open several rolls at once,
But you hid the box behind your back.
You were trying to lose weight, but I wanted to gain.
Thoughts of halving the rolls amongst ourselves
Must have come to mind.
The fire roared and you brought out the box,
Better to eat than to let them melt and waste away.
We decided not to pull the cords like parachutes.
You liked cherry the best, while I preferred pineapple.
There were so many sour lemons and ugly limes,
We had to lick them together
To make them disappear faster.
Once in a while we were favored with exotic mango,
And creamy banana.
We are still sitting at the fire,
It warms our bones and cracks our faces.
The box is still heavy, though many wrappers
Have fed the flames. The children
Grab the best colors most days,
And we end up settling for orange and wintergreen.
But I would rather eat a whole case
Of yucky colors with you
Than eat only pineapple with anyone else,
And this story is too good
To not have a happy ending.