JellyBean

Baby, are you coffee bean or tangerine?

Cinnamon spice

when I thought, when you seem

strawberry?

I’m on the lookout for tell-tale speckles

masquerade the flavor behind freckles

cute as can be lull me

make me trust you.

Give me a bag of magic beans and I’ll

pick out all the green ones

but you really shouldn’t do that

with people.

I’d avoid licorice and stick my fingers deep

in the bag, drag to find the ones I like the

best

but we can’t just wish away a person’s

tutti-fruitti.

But with you it’s not that I’d change a thing.

I like your taste, your sugar gleam.

I’m just afraid, imagining

popcorn will figure out that

cantaloupe is not a good

team player,

discover that she doesn’t like the way her

broken candy shell reflects the light,

because once you squish a bean between your fingers:

Do those crushed ones ever taste quite right?