I want to eat Chicken McNuggets (in a cardboard box, with honey mustard)
on a city bench beside a concrete fountain
and nothing else will do
Most days I crave red leaf lettuce, arugula
grape tomatoes, brown rice, lentil soup
and hummus sprinkled with cayenne
at dusk evening, in the glow of laughing children
But not when I want a cigarette, a memory of hiding
a weight lifted from my shoulders
one that cannot be cast off easily
one I would not give up without a fight
the gift of loving so deeply I might split open