Millennium Park

Millennium Park

My nostrils flare at the scent of dead meat
roasted and ready resting in the cheapest
whitest bread known to human civilization.

Yours have other designs -- sensing sugar
and fun -- pink whims of a child on a paper
roll spun as though invented for you alone.

I let my stomach rumble as I watched you at
those superfluous strands of nothingness --
tearing off your cotton candy -- I fell in love.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010