clink - the ice melts in the glass
hold a toast to raspberries
to peaches and to grapes
the juice is running down my hands
and down my lips and face

I wish you tasted like this
but you're never so sweet
you wish I were a cherry
but I belong to the street

clink - the glasses touch and shiver
something is said over our frozen dinner
water of melons and berries of straw
sounds like a spell but it's nothing at all

I wish my skin were so firm
but I'm an overripe apple
you wish my flesh parted
but I'm not easily spread

clink - the ice melts in the glass
hold a toast to blueberries
to apricots and to oranges
the juice is running down our hands
hold a toast to me.

© Jess Zelhart, 2005. Thou shalt not steal.