I share with you the glorious fruits of my labor, small but significant
I present a choice from the array of colors gold pink green and of course the festive orange and black
I ran
giddy through my neighborhood collecting these parcels for us
I draw up pictures of you in my mind when I pour the contents of my bucket out onto my bed
I have hand selected you
my friend
my lover
or my emotional output
to share this sacred tradition with
and as I walk through the halls weighed down by our secret
I think of the vultures surrounding our desks with greedy eyes
I cherish these moments of indulgence with you
I think of the feeling I get when I make your day
when I reveal your consolation prize of being my companion
I can feel your childish smile pull apart my heart and my brain
I see your starving fingers seek out the best piece and take it for yourself
like I knew you would
I don't know why I like you
or why I do this
but I do
I recite the same practice every year
I dress up
forage and gather in the dark
then bring you the best of the finds
I wish you knew what this means to me