I feel I strong poetic license to ask you,
what am I supposed to do,
do I put them a in a jar?
with a green top,
and label it "Sam"?
then lose it somewhere behind the sugar
and olive oil?
do I occasionally open the jar,
to steal a smell? so that I may be filled with you,
for only as long as I can hold my breath?
unlike last time, where breaths were only gasps,
that were loud and unmanageable.
and breathing each others air was only done,
to keep our voices down.
I am in earnest.
I reject the jar!
I want you on my toast! I want to mix you with,
brown sugar, and eat you, upside-down.
so all the flavor,
hits my tongue at once.
you taste too good, leaving me debilitated,
and incapable of walking lightly,
on subjects thick with sweet and pleasurable coatings.
I don't want any more jars with green tops.
I don't want to watch the fruit inside ferment,
(I am hungry now.)