YOU'RE HUG

Your hug is like . .
. . butterscotch candy swirling on my tongue, while I search for somewhere to throw the crinkly wrapper.

Your hug is like . .
. . maple candy melting in my mouth in the Green Mountains of Vermont.

Your hug is like . .
. . salt water taffy--a whole box of it ready to pull.

Your hug is like . .
. . steaming hot bread rolls dipped in honey.

Your hug is like . .
. . barbecue sauce on roasted chicken turning on a spit over a fire on a hot July day.

Your hug is like . .
. . fireworks over Boston, the kind that make you 'ooh' and 'ahh'.

Your hug is like . .
. . a sauna in Finland on an icy lake.

Your hug is like . .
. . terry cloth bath towels wrapped around my body in a steam bath.

Your hug is like . .
. . Charlottesville.

Your hug is like . .
. . a symphony by Mozart sung by an Austrian choir.

Your hug is like . .
. . a French horn.

Your hug is like . .
. . a sequoia tree bathed in sunlight.

Your hug is like . .
. . hot motor oil on my fingers.

Your hug is like . .
. . playdough in cellophane tossed in the air.

Your hug is like . .
. . mushy peas in my cheeks.

Your hug is like . .
. . Bactine sprayed on a paper cut by Mom.

Your hug is like . .
. . mango juice in Veracruz.

Your hug is like . .
. . black people singing.

Your hug is like . .
. . almond butter, the kind that gives you hives.

Your hug is like . .
. . sunrise over Los Angeles, and sunset over Denver.

Your hug is like . .
. . the trail a rocket ship leaves across the sky.

Your hug is like . .
. . a song by Patsy Cline sung all high-lonesome.

Your hug is like . .
. . an Italian movie where everyone is shouting so loudly you can't hear what they're saying.

Your hug is like . .
. . world peace after a long war.

Your hug is like . .
. . nothing I've ever known.
© 2003 by Michael J. Farrand


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