Honey

The vacuum cleaner sounds like a swarm of bees, but I don’t even like honey, you say. I look at you with my black eyebrows raised and say what the hell does that have to do with anything and who the hell doesn’t like honey? That’s like not liking pizza or vanilla ice cream. You remind me that you don’t like pizza and you really prefer chocolate and I wonder why I’m even talking to you Why we’re even in the same room and why I even bother kissing a person who doesn’t like honey, pizza or vanilla ice cream. I can’t help it that every time I eat an apple it reminds me of your mouth and the taste of your tongue. And I can’t help it that sometimes I eat a spoonful of honey before we kiss.

©2009 Jes M Harmon