He was the kind of guy with a story
to tell, a way of spinning sentences
like taffy, one thing after another,
a sticky web of connections a girl
could get lost in. Honey dripped
from his fingers, caramel kisses
from his lips, He knew how to dangle
a come-on like a candy necklace—
cheap sweets on a string.
I was a girl with a fondness for fiction,
eager and willing to suspend disbelief
for a quick lick of the icing spoon,
a promise of cinnamon sizzles,
cherry hearts. In his rented room,
we played a sugar-coated version
of baby, baby, baby. I was the kind
of girl with a constant craving. He was
the kind of guy who knew my kind.
Antonia (Toni) Clark works as a medical writer and editor. She has also taught creative writing and manages an online poetry workshop, The Waters. She has published a chapbook, Smoke and Mirrors and a full-length poetry collection, Chameleon Moon. Toni lives in Vermont, loves French picnics, and plays French café music on a sparkly purple accordion.