Wrote this a few years ago in response to a throw-down challenge from my friend Rachel, hope it brings you a smile!

Thou shimmering sheath sealing sweetness light,
Thou offspring of Atlantis’ molten sand,
Silver pillar, your tattooed words recite
A sparklin’ story condensed in one hand:
What joy awaits beneath your shining skin
Of candy sweet or acid’s sting, or of both
In Isles of Wal-Mart or Fountain spring thee
What words and marks are these? Which cal’ries loathe?
What struggle to escape thee lappet’s tin?
What scarlet and ebon runes? What glory?

Tasted libations are sweet, but those still seal’d
Breed lust, therefore, ye ringed tab, stay on;
Not yet to the tongue, will thee be revealed,
No slake, the elixir shan’t be withdrawn:
Fair vessel in my hand, thou must await
Thy nectar shall soon dance upon my lips;
Bold lover, ever, ever shall we kiss
Though I shall imbibe thee, such be your fate;
Ye will fade, yet thee brethren shall bring me bliss,
For ever wilt thou froth in hearty sips

Ah, captured effervescence! Sealed inside
Your foaming waves, yearning to find freedom;
And pound my palate’s shore with umber tide,
For ever waiting with rapture to come;
More flavor! More Fizzle! More Ecstasy!
For ever chilled and ready to thrill,
For ever exploding with your sweet bite;
Tempting and taunting me, so near ye be,
Restrain me at thy precipice, need thee still,
Parch’d my tongue be, Succumb ye must this night.

Pillar doth lean, exposing crown eclipse,
Thy clasp be ripped, thy soul revealing,
Your glistening shaft rising to my lips,
Mahogany nectar streaming…
How your roiling essence doth flow and froth!
Caressing cheeks and tongue and then
Erupting and overwhelming ev’ry sense!
Little vessel, baring essence thee doth
Thunder round and around my mouth again!
Piquant treacle, thy depth be e’er immense.

O Column Chrome! Sweet Nectar! Sate my soul!
From cane and coca and citric be wrought,
With nary a cal’rie my waist to roll;
Thine elixir, dost please me with just thy thought
Spring eternal, flow thee to short and tall!
When menology for thee time be pass’d,
Thy sisters shalt be birth’d and ever give
Surfeit nectar never, to all thou say’st,
“Just for the taste of it”—great taste is all
Ye need in life and all ye need to live.