pour some sugar on me

let's imagine life is a cup of sugar. it's all very sweet, but eat too much at once and you get

diabetes, that's right. a debilitating preexisting condition.

life is a fruit, in various stages of ripeness. life is a ripe old age.

life comes with preexisting everything, and spontaneously generated flies in the pyrex. life is uninsured under god, except that you know you will die.

let's imagine lending someone else your cup of sugar. let's imaging someone coming, knocking on your door.

you might be in a way that it's not the time to be on offer. you might have to shake your head and send them down the road a peg.

but in that cup of sugar, there are millions of sand-grain crystals. in that cup of sugar, there's the promise of stained glass.

of cookies and cupcakes and watermelon, and scones and apples and bananas. there's sugar burning everywhere for those with the carcinogenic tongues to taste it.

and i, with the eyes to see the canister, would like to offer to you. as if you've not got plenty of sugars. as if your hummingbirds aren't living plenteously.

a cup of sugar. my cup of sugar. my garden of delights, that will slowly kill me. my caramel-crusted dreams.

it could also be a cup of flour. it might look like a carton of eggs. it might look like every essential protein in a perfect yolk that looks like the sun.

i left my sugar out in the sun. the top layer got all melted together like crazy.

but in my neighbor's house, there is air conditioning. in my neighbor's house, there's a door to a street like mine.

in my neighbor's house is my neighbor's heart. we bury it in packing peanuts, a circus on delay.