I smear it on with both hands
Just for the excuse to lick it off
To feel the hard and soft of it,
To linger near the top
And delve into the bottom
To know it all with the best part of me
To taste what I touch,
To feel each inch of landscape
By having moved over it,
And I move slowly
As not to miss anything
Each flaw a treasure,
Each ripple a luxurious side trip
To fit with the tip or lip
As I move on,
There is always too much to
Take in all at once
Too many tiny places
To slip in and out of,
Too little time
to know as much as I should,
to know as much as I should,
And like a road-weary tourist
I vow to explore this or that
On my next trip
Aching for the chance
At least one more encounter,
Hoping beyond hope
That I have done enough
To deserve another lick
Smearing it all on so thick
I can’t possibly miss
My next try.
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