Brightly colored, cellophane covered boxes
Hold a “fix” and one less breath of being.
Their contents are tidy.
Hidden under a soft silver foil
They lay fresh and new, virgin.
An exotic beauty with coy eyes
And ink black hair plays a siren song,
Inviting you to hold her glass body to your lips.
She is amber golden seas,
And the rich spiced flavor
Of unknown lands.
A timeless pungent aroma
Grabs subtly at the threads of reality,
Slowly pulling them apart and reweaving them.
A sharper image and warmth
Emerge through the thick air left behind.
These are small treats and vices,
An ounce or breath of self reward,
In a daze of expectations…