Note: This poem is featured on the Inspiration House CD, available now.

1.

Don't tell my wife.
Clock hands perpendicular in still of night,
and I'm trapped in vision of sweet love,
see sneaking out of bed,
driving up Crenshaw
to lick that sugary electricity from my lips
feel that plush cinammon on my tongue.

Every thought derailed by
images of that brown, round surface,
gleaming with moist luminesence,
never judging me or resisting my advances,
enticing me with curves and valleys ...

Don't get it twisted,
I'm talkin' about donuts, y'all.

Not no Dunkin Donuts.
Spudnuts can't turn a brother out this way.
You can keep your Yum Yum and your mom and pop shops,
'cause I'm all about tha Cadillac of confections,
the Pam Greer of pastry,
Krispy Kreme.

How can I break it to my beloved bride
that her love doesn't get my blood flowing like
hot cinnamon buns?
Will she stop doing laundry?
Will I find my key don't fit the lock,
and discover new accomodations next to
endless conveyer belt of icing and dough?

I'm gonna try to keep this secret,
since I don't believe sugar addiction
is covered in caveats of matrimonial law.
Maybe she won't notice if I just slip out for a little while ...

2.

Slow groove of my Monte Carlo
fits into drive through lane like
"ooooh" inside "yeah."
Position grinning face close enough to speaker
so I can claim my passion
with a gentle tone and not a holler,
"Six cinnamon buns, please."

World disssolves around me,
as those unbelievable words rocket through lit menu,
smacking me across face with regret and loss,
"I'm sorry, we don't make those any more."

In the mall across the street people looked up,
startled by my cry of anguish.
To never know that delicate fleshiness again,
to have that supple taste taken from me by corporate policy,
too much for my late night sensibilities.

Dejected, I bury my pain in glazed crullers
and classical curves of the original,
but it's not the same.
How can I recover from this loss, this love, this cinnamon bun?

I remember Sunshine Punch Kool Aid,
dancing citrus excitement
poured into Darth Vader glass from Burger King.
How long did I mourn its passing,
when that flavor fell from favor,
to never grace grocery aisles again.

Those first excited days lingering
over moments of Georgia Peach and cranberry juice,
feeling the cool ocean spray across my cheeks.
Now those pleasures a hair too costly for every day,
fragrant memories, citrus tears.

This list lengthened by one,
the demise of the Krispy Kreme cinnamon bun.
if you love something, set it free,
or at least buy a lifetime supply ...

... say, is that apple pie? I love that stuff!