Things I like. Ode to Sugary Love.

Twittering heartbeats and smacks on the lips. Orange peels and lemon zest and kiwi frosted moonbeams. Sopping papaya blood.

Sugar plantations raining clouds of polluted skittles and smooches. Horny winds catch dark chocolates and guzzle cinammon buns and wrap sweet hugs around pretty people. Beach sand imbibes the organic fruit smoothie of the lunar tides and munch on little hermit crabs who wallow and plunder under maple syrup like foam of waves.

Asteroidic peppermints fall on planet earth and people smile and hold hands and the preserves hold peace in its pocket for just a second.

And Jolly Ranchers, and Mambas, and Laffy Taffy and delighted three-year-olds ruining their teeth, but laughing anyway.

TCBY was my favorite place to go when I was eleven. With my girlfriends. And we laughed. And my Dad took us there. I got chocolate and vanilla swirl with oreo cookie toppings. I wish my Dad would say to me now, "Hey Patton, do you want me to take you to TCBY?" But he's diabetic now.

And I ate lots of candy with Anne, and now she's gone. She broke my heart into tiny little M&M pieces.

Nothing melts my heart more than a plate of mustard greens and kale. And then a dark chocolate bar for dessert.

Sparkles and shiny things and glitter and my remote hope to taste a Coca-cola on a road trip while holding a guitar and a bandana. Just like America...right?

Jelly bean disasters and the chaotic decision between Gummi Bears and Gummi Cokes...or Gummi Worms? Too hard a choice.

I liked fruit roll-ups, but I was much bigger on grape popsicles. And I knew my mom loved me because there was some popsicles in the house.

Hot fudge---say what? Yes, I want nuts; yes, I want cherries; yes, I want whip cream on top; yes, I want hot fudge. But the best was all of that combined and put into a waffle-cone bowl. (Shout out to Willow Brook Country Club in Tyler, TX, and to my Grandmama who actually let me eat that.)