YOU'RE HUG
Your hug is like . .
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. . butterscotch candy swirling on my tongue, while I search for somewhere to throw the crinkly
wrapper.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . maple candy melting in my mouth in the Green Mountains of Vermont.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . salt water taffy--a whole box of it ready to pull.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . steaming hot bread rolls dipped in honey.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . barbecue sauce on roasted chicken turning on a spit over a fire on a hot July day.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . fireworks over Boston, the kind that make you 'ooh' and 'ahh'.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . a sauna in Finland on an icy lake.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . terry cloth bath towels wrapped around my body in a steam bath.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . a symphony by Mozart sung by an Austrian choir.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . a sequoia tree bathed in sunlight.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . hot motor oil on my fingers.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . playdough in cellophane tossed in the air.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . mushy peas in my cheeks.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . Bactine sprayed on a paper cut by Mom.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . mango juice in Veracruz.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . black people singing.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . almond butter, the kind that gives you hives.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . sunrise over Los Angeles, and sunset over Denver.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . the trail a rocket ship leaves across the sky.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . a song by Patsy Cline sung all high-lonesome.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . an Italian movie where everyone is shouting so loudly you can't hear what they're saying.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . world peace after a long war.
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Your hug is like . .
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. . nothing I've ever known.
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