Make Mine Bitter
We could peel back the layers of paint
And chip away the exterior
Hunt for what’s underneath.
How can we tell where the skin starts?
Does it bleed?
Maybe it only bleeds glitter
And cries rhinestone tears
And perspires gold dust
That tastes like powdered sugar,
That drowns our greasy fried dough,
So we can swallow it without choking.
Maybe there is no skin underneath the sugar and gold
Did it mix the candy-coated shell with pearl inside --
A shiny, sweet mix of exaggerations and truth for our viewing pleasure?
Will you consume it then and be satisfied?
Why shouldn’t I choose a Milky Way
over a handful of cocoa beans?
You just take the final product,
The ready-made delight:
Pasteurized, homogenized, sterilized,
Publicized, parents-advised, re-revised, patronized,
Petrified.
But I’ll keep hunting for the cocoa beans.