French Fries

Golden yellow is that of my hunger

As it stares with wide eyes

At the crispy fried potato squeezed

Between your fingers.

Just a bite is all I want

As I imagine its tiny white salty flacks

Biting into the buds of my tongue

Telling the tip that it only wants more.

As I watch your fingers

You study the contour of your blue shirt on me

It may be too large, but its length gives more

Than it shall hide from you today.

Brown is those eyes you gaze upon me with

Hungry for what I won’t give, not now

As I continue to crave that steaming stick

That you refuse to give to me.

As I lunge for that fry

You grab my chocolate milkshake

Sitting between my legs

In a little white cup with a striped straw.

The fry is warmer than I had expected

My tongue is burned as the golden bitter zest

Explodes in my mouth while you savor

The flavor of the tanned ice cream.

I giggle as I can feel my face turn red

Like a stop sign, warming you not to drink it all

I steal it back as you grab yet another from your carton.

Golden yellow is that of my hunger.