seconds

before it enters your mouth, you think
the first bite should be enough to do you in
to make you ask for something more than what
you think you have.
with something that looks this boisterously tempting, that's usually the case.
it is like love, this bewildering attraction
at first taste.
everytime, you will find that the present passion overshadows,
if not eradicates, memories of innocence and good intentions.
suddenly you forget the name of the first sweet you have gone back to
time and again when you were
still in trousers and weren't allowed to nurture your sweet tooth.

as with all temporal passions,
what truly matters here
is the now of things.
you have no time to think about consequential calories
or toothaches or the actual probability of diabetes.
this is all you want- pleasure that makes your mouth silky with
sugar- for now.
the past has too many residual claims on you.
it seems ridiculous to contemplate the future at such an early point.
so you decide to forget and embrace the undeniable sweetness
of what is in your mouth, on your unfaithful tongue.

before minutes you realize that
all of it is gone.
you have mercilessly consumed it. it has now become prey to your
mystified hunger.
so it offers itself up, not just in pieces now,
but its entire frosty self.
it trusts that you can finally muster enough courage to
eat it all up.
it recognizes that you are not a god.
it waits patiently for your screaming lust to take over.

pleasure,pleasure,pleasure rises up like moonbeams.

so you get another piece.
you are close to finishing it when
the phantoms of reason (unwelcome, of course,) all come up tapping on your shoulder-
visions of you fat and prostate with
indulgence flash before your eyes;
you in your deathbed, resentfully dramatic.

there is of course, the proverbial battle.
you look at the confection before you.
you remember the time when you were just passing by this store window
and you looked at it with the furor of impatience.
granted, you could not wait to get your hands on her
indifference, on her vulnerability.
you remember feeling disillusioned and cavernous.

this time, you realize that this is not something that you need.
the fact that you even wanted it makes you sorry for yourself.
you push the plate away and wonder how all that
frosting managed to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.