From Copperfield's Literary Magazine, about twenty years ago
Sliding along the slippery chocolate
Surface with the moisture drops.
Getting cold, getting nothing.
Breaking through the black coating
To the white sweetness beneath.
Taking all the coat off, taking my time.
Learning to live with sticky fingers,
Wiping dribbles with my tongue,
Learning to lick, learning not to bite.
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"for 'twere absurd to think that nature in the earth bred gold, perfect in the instant;
there must be remote matter." - Ben Jonson
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