Pixie Sticks, For Heaven's Sake

I heard a fellow poet exclaim
that he could not bear another poem
about this blasted pandemic.
Not another, he had exclaimed again.
He asked if someone could please,
please,
write about something, anything else,
that doesn't confine the written word
to this poetry-inspiring pandemic.
Someone please, he had said,
write about
"...pixie sticks, for heaven's sake."

And so, to the frustrated, but lovely poet,
whom I hope has survived these months
ingesting and digesting pandemic-free
but more than likely, calorie-filled poetry,
I offer my verse:

Pixie Sticks

In general,
sugar-bombs
in a straw dressed
like a barber's pole.
Sweet like a puffed-up lie
to a narcissistic ear,
sour like a guttering promise
thrown out in the heat.

I peel the top off
a Blue Maui Punch
and pour the excitement
onto my eager tongue,
wondering what adventure
this day will bring.

***