My red wagon, in my youth,
Kept things some thought quite uncouth,
Like fishing line, crawdad bait,
A model boat, old door plate,
Copper rupees from Nepal,
Ancient skull, an old softball,
And I still wish I had them all,
Those fine treasures of my youth.

Though years have past since that day,
I, again, still lug that dray,
But I often can recall,
All the stuff I used to haul.
Though no longer filled with junk;
I don't use it like a trunk.
This lesson I didn't flunk.
It's filled with my kids at play.

I want to rip off your packaging.  

I want to feast on you,
   gobble you up,
      pig out on you,
   and wolf you down.

I want your nourishment.  
   I want your refreshment.  
      Give me sustenance.  

I want to nibble on your appetizers
   and sip your wine.
      I want your snack.  
   I want to close my fingers around
      your strawberries and partake of you.  
I want to rummage your confections and
   lay waste to your delicatessen.  

This is not the time for delicate bites.
   This is not the time to diet.  
      I want handfuls of you.  
   I want to play with my food
      and lick the bowl
         for dessert.

I'm just one of the thousands
Of monkeys, who sit
At their keyboards,
Typing away,
   Typing away,
      Typing away,
Foregoing food, water,
   ***, and even love
      Typing away
         Typing away
Not to create some masterpiece
   Which will immortalize me
      Typing away
         Well, maybe that
But, it is my hope that in
   This typing away
      I could capture
         The most elusive of prizes:
             Truth

When I left,
I took your dreams,
Your laughter,
Your secrets,
Your memories,
Your love,
And left with only
Emptiness.

Ah, passion -
   That stay awake,
      Go-without-eating mania.
   What other feeling can
Make a person feel so alive?

Then, there is longing -
   That helpless sense of incompleteness.

Give me comfortable love -
   That gentle expression of companionship.
      Give me safe love,
         Free of juvenile fears and
   Exaggerated
Expectations.

But...
   Give me contentment
      Some other moment.

In that fleeting moment of meeting,
I ask myself if I could ever love you.

Certainly, I want eternity,
   But I could be content,
      If, in that fleeting moment,

I could brush souls with you.

In the bleakest part of winter.
When earth is covered with snow,
A sentry of masculine gender
Stands without a sign of woe.

How is it snow men always smile?
The scenery isn't great.
Though they most often dress with style,
They are always overweight.

Magic silk hats hide their bald heads.
Their carrot noses aren't cute.
Beady eyes seem pixilated.
They don't even own a suit.

So, why do these guards always smile?
What can they all smile about?
To contrast, scarecrows are most vile,
With a look that's all worn out.

Scarecrows got the cerebral part,
But it wasn't an even trade.
For what snowmen got was a heart,
In the love with which they're made.