Tasty Torus

Alas, too many sources of delight are deleterious to one’s health

Before sinking one’s teeth into some tender victual, one must be reminded

Constantly, and loudly, of the trans fats, the salt, the sugar, the countless dangers;

Denial is dangerous and deleterious in itself, of course—one must accept the truth

Even when it is that the fleeting pleasure of a given indulgence is massively outweighed

Forever, or at least as long as one will linger in this corporeal carapace

Given all of the salient considerations, by the risks, the damage, the creeping doom

However, I will not quiver and grimace with apprehension

I will greet the smiling human at the counter and with gusto, request what I covet: you

Justifying this decision on rational or scientific grounds is laughably impossible

Knowing this makes it seem a revolt, a wild act of iconoclastic rebellion

Looking at the blizzard of sweet coconut that adorns you, I relish that strange collision

Meteorological phenomena like blizzards are tied to the icy, snow cloaked north

Never has coconut seemed blithely, grinningly at home in such places, and yet

Over the objections of nature and logic, you levitate like an enigmatic torus piloted by extraterrestrials

Pure and delicious is the hedonistic calculus that leads to your purchase and eager consumption

Quests, after all, take many forms: humans seek treasure, conquest, the mapping of terra incognita, the besting of monsters

Regardless, one can cherish and delight in a quest for a toasted coconut doughnut

Sweet, curvaceous, redolent of the lazy, sun groped languor of an Henri Rousseau painting

Tasting implausible here, amidst the slush and struggle of a Canadian January

Unlikely, given the disintegration of supply chains and the metastasizing cost of all aspects of life

Vivacious, coyly winking with your single eye to pull me and offer me a taste of your golden flank

Wonders are ubiquitous; despite the fact that you have millions of siblings, you, uniquely dimpled and dusted, belong entirely to me

Xanthan gum, polysaccharide progeny of expert microorganisms and sugar, is inside of you

You will soon be inside of me, having been torn by my teeth and toyed with by my tongue

Zooming from my entrance to my exit, be kind to me, and accept my love and gratitude