Gluttony and Vanity Were Always My Sins
My vices came to me early--
when my grandmas delighted aloud
at my dimples while feeding me
blini with berries and schlag or treated
me to butterscotch sundaes at Schrafts.
And they coalesced in the ice cream
dresses both grammies bought me
for birthdays--in mint silk or strawberry
organdy—even more scrumptious
than the cakes in Ebinger’s window.
By my teens, I was addicted
to dimsum and sushi, top grades
and things of this world--like red
winter coats and long earrings, oysters
on half shells, off-Broadway plays
and Toshiro Mifune movies. And you
hooked me further, as soon as we met,
on compliments, fudge cake and
cheeseburgers after we studied, stories
of travels to China and Crete, caresses
I thought you'd invented, and the feel
of your soccer star body against me
once we dove into bed.
So please don’t tell me it’s time to stop
buying new cashmere sweaters, coloring
my hair or nibbling dark chocolate
at midnight. Just lick my fingers and
whisper I want you again.
My vices came to me early--
when my grandmas delighted aloud
at my dimples while feeding me
blini with berries and schlag or treated
me to butterscotch sundaes at Schrafts.
And they coalesced in the ice cream
dresses both grammies bought me
for birthdays--in mint silk or strawberry
organdy—even more scrumptious
than the cakes in Ebinger’s window.
By my teens, I was addicted
to dimsum and sushi, top grades
and things of this world--like red
winter coats and long earrings, oysters
on half shells, off-Broadway plays
and Toshiro Mifune movies. And you
hooked me further, as soon as we met,
on compliments, fudge cake and
cheeseburgers after we studied, stories
of travels to China and Crete, caresses
I thought you'd invented, and the feel
of your soccer star body against me
once we dove into bed.
So please don’t tell me it’s time to stop
buying new cashmere sweaters, coloring
my hair or nibbling dark chocolate
at midnight. Just lick my fingers and
whisper I want you again.