though it is the middle of july
i kept my promise
the sweat that drips between my *******, heaving from the heat
mingles with the smell of sweet candy being formed
in the bowl beneath my spoon
it is a constant dance,
watching that she heats past jelly
but not to hard cracked
gently stirring one minute
whisking another
and the heat
the sweet fumes
fog my glasses, cool from the ceiling fan
making love to my art
but more intensive
pushing and pulling
so much work for just one position
and
unlike a lover
she is hardened and cold
after i bring her just right
a disappointed sigh of bubbles
never been this bad on any man or woman i have pleased
but i am inadequate
to candy