The Midway

The air is sweet enough to make your teeth
send hurtful messages along your jaw
right to the middle of your medulla
to dance a mambo on your cerebellum.

Breathe deep and dive deeper
slicing a wormhole through the syrup
that makes life cling to your skin
so that even blinking an eye
becomes a conscious effort.

A slow, sultry wink that sugars
every vision, each sound a candy
corn crunch and the sponge toffee
caramel a scent to remember.

Sly shills whistle a promised
seduction to the gambler hiding
inside teenaged psyches; eager
to turn the three dollar teddy
bear into a treasure, priceless.

It lounges on her frothy, cotton
candy bedspread to watch the swoon
written down on vellum pages
of her sweet sixteen dear diary

Today I kissed a boy who tasted
as good as toffee apples and funnel
cakes dusted with white powdered
sugar so thick that it paints my lips
with honey gloss and melon dew.