Children peak around corners,
knowing the sting of momma’s belt
but desiring the cookies on the counter.
To be caught is a risk that result in lash and explosion
but to catch that which is desired is an unspeakable victory.
Lips salivate at the flavor of those cookies.
It is enough as if they haven’t had them before.
That is precisely the problem.
They know cookies.
The scents fill Johnnie’s nose and he recalls the last
time he had cookies.
Snickerdoodle he thinks.
Yes, doused with brown sugar. Just a bit darker
than the flour momma had rolled them in.
Patience was never his thing.
Sho’nuff, soon as they came out the oven and momma
had run to the store, Johnnie ran too.
He ran to that kitchen, with a singular mind
Scooped himself up 7 cookies
soft and gooey cookies
and threw them straight into his mouth
His tongue recognized their presence
and responded with boils and scars
the pain was real
Johnnie didn’t care.
He swallowed them piping hot.
He knew those cookies were good
and he had to have them.
This time a’round he smelled the chocolate
melting in to the breaded base
he also could detect a hint of peanut butter
he’d never had those two together.
Must be delicious he thought.
The smell was intoxicating.
He had watched momma bake them from afar
for what seemed like days.
He wanted some.
He knew that had to be good.
They looked good.
He desired them.
He had to have them.
So peaked around that corner,
remember momma’s warning,
he knew he was “cruisin for a bruisin”
but he had to have them.
His secret delight.
Not time for the cool.
He was fearless.
He loved those cookies.
If only he knew,
the cookies had consciousness of
the cavities he’d have by 15.
The diabetes by 24.
The weight problems.
They’d be gone.
somewhere within the ethers of his body
leaving tattoos of desire
long since departed.
Johnnie was fearless.
He lived, he thinks.
That’s the way love goes.