A farmer from Farmington sowed
His hectares with freckle of toad.  
When asked what would sprout
He hadn’t a doubt
Of harvesting doughnuts à la mode.

This morning’s light seemed to blink on,
suddenly, like an urgent message.
It painted the lone, brittle cloud, racing somewhere
warmer, a shocking school-bus yellow.

There’s a -30 degree wind-chill this morning,
my coffee seemed hotter and more comforting.
I usually keep my windows cracked at night
but this air feels aggressive and sharp as a knife.

The quad, usually bustling on weekend mornings,
is empty and the few cars I see are smoking like old steam trains.
I was dreaming of sweets and of walking to “Donut Crazy,”
but that actually would be crazy, if not suicidal.

“Ooo!” I say after digging through the kitchen cupboards, “we have pop-tarts!”

I always get up early. Early, early, early and it’s Saturday morning. So I scooted over to “Donut Crazy” and got myself 12 sugar donuts (and a selection of treats for my suitemates - I’m NOT suicidal.)

At 8am, I’m in the suite common area, on the couch, binging “Ladybug and Cat Noir” on my iPad and I realize that Leong, one of my suitemates, is sipping her coffee and staring at me like I’m a bad pet. I look around to find myself sitting in a shower of confectioners’ sugar speckles.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.” I disclaim.

I could eat a dozen
Perhaps I ought, I glance at
The box, white and untouched
Alone on the table, sweet air inside

I can’t help but break the seal
Revealing ****** frosting, perfect lines
Would anyone know if I took
Both a fritter and macaroon?

Lord help me, no restraint
As I grab a fistful
My waistline can’t trust me
My tongue simply yearns
For every single pastry

It’s the wholesome feeling when you tear into the
delightfully messy glaze
The soft fried dough
It’s a classic
Doughnut shop
The place you feel most comfortable
The most hungry
A place you make new memories every time you go
A doughnut by yourself, with a friend, with a special someone
This corner doughnut shop
Is my safe place
My home base

Fear hurts.
No matter how happy I am, there is always fear.

When it’s dark at night, there is fear.
Fear crawls underneath the blanket with your beating heart.

When you eat an ice cream cone, there is fear.
Fear slides onto your tongue, along with the sweet, frozen cream, and makes its way down your throat.

When you squeeze a pillow, fear will be there,
refusing to exit your mind.

Fear, why won’t you exit my mind?
It never leaves me..

But fear is what keeps you going everyday.

When you climb a great pine tree,
you feel glad, happy, strong, though never fearless
for fear’s there lurking in the needles right there with you.

When the sweetest pitbull licks your face with it’s oh so soft tongue,
you fear that it will leave you.
When your phone rings,
you fear of who it is.

Fear makes me fearless

When you play, you still fear.
You don’t even know what you fear but
fear is everywhere.
It doesn’t make sense.
Fear doesn’t make sense.

Fear is fear.

When fear comes along
Fear is your best friend
Fear makes me dance.

When you love something,
you fear that it will go away.

You fear of yourself.
You fear of the world.

Fear comes to make life harder,
to make you sad,
to make you scared,
but your heart is full of joy so you just sit at the kitchen table,
eating donuts with a side of fear.

You may love fear, you drink it like it’s coffee,
but you hate fear even more.

Fingers trace

the crescent moon coffee stain
on the otherwise white napkin.

Nothing left
between us now
but donut crumbs.