The Price of Hershey Bars

The banging wind frozen on my fingers
unwrapped the candy bar from America
tasting sweet and sour like week old milk
an urban rustic flavour machined product
its mint surface stamped with still ripples.

And I can see Ella from my Baltimore holiday
sweetly wrapping with brown paper and string
her English friend their favourite Hershey bar.
And softly-slowly I tongue her gift into puddles
of Aztec champagne and dreaming's of Cortez
John Wayne and a Chocolate covered Marilyn.


John G.Hall(C)2005