Boardwalk Food, Sugar Coma (2 poems)

Boardwalk Food

My aunt took my hand,

and we walked the boards

down the shore,

passing Mr. Peanut with samples

in a paper cup,

past the fudge makers,

rolling out chocolate marshmallows,

and cutting little squares.

The smell of fresh donuts

on a warm summer morning,

a baker curling the dough,

frying circles of delight,

dripping with vanilla icing.

I kept telling my aunt,

how hungry I was,

as the waves crashed

into the rocks, and the gulls

soared over the pier.

We passed a pizzeria,

and watched a guy make

a New York-style pie,

pulling one from a brick oven—

one slice for a dollar-fifty;

my aunt bought two.

So much to eat,

that we had to stay another week.

We couldn’t resist

the swirl of cotton candy.

Sugar Coma

The last thing I remember is

standing in line at a candy store.

It was white and antiseptic,

a checkerboard floor, and the glass case

had a bright display.

They organized the candies in rows—

milk chocolates, dark chocolates,

white chocolates—brittles and toffees,

fudge and truffles.

I took one big inhale,

and imagined I was in

Charlie’s chocolate factory,

overwhelmed by all the candy.

It was only after I ate a Kona Mocha

did my head spin, and I felt numb.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head

when I sampled the Polar Bear Paw.

I dropped to the floor

with a sugary thud.

I convulsed like Frankenstein

from two candied bolts of electricity.