Hollow Chocolate Bunny

There it is,
The kingpin of the Easter basket.
Those happy hyperbolized eyes,
The pastel suspenders and that toothy grin.
It's floating in a sea of mommy-loves-me Easter grass,
Which is made of some mysterious and unnaturally green material.

Once you peel that metallic pink and green wrapper
Into little strips as you delicately move around
Its fragile ears and little bunny toes
Making sure to keep it all in one piece
You sit back from your wicker treasure chest
And admire the work of your deft fingers.

Soon, your body temperature begins to melt the chocolate,
So you bring your thumb, now marked with brown goo
Up to your welcoming, parted lips.
It occurs to you that this bunny does not have long to live
In such a warm and hostile environment.
So, you bite the ear.

I'm sure there's a chocolate bunny factory secret
As to why the ear is the most solid part of the bunny,
Which is probably we always start there.
It also seems less cruel, I mean
Who goes for the foot first?
To dive right into the torso is serial killer material.

But, the ear is a farce.
You go a little further and take on the head
Opening your mouth wide for this big, chocolaty bite,
And then, crumble, fumble, spill and stain.
Chocolate pieces fall everywhere and all you're left with
Is a mediocre mouthful of waxy preservatives.

Determined that Harvey won't let you down,
I'm not sure why I think they're all named Harvey,
You start to lick up the pieces in your hand
And then, head into the shoulder.
The back of your throat starts to tickle
With the mounting levels of sugar your ingesting.

Is this worth it?
Your hand is now brown and Harvey is bending.
The once splendid creature inviting you into childhood
Is now a big brown mess that you can't put down.
After all, there isn't a foil piece big enough.
You start to survey the other tasty treats that await you.

So, you get up chuck Harvey on a paper towel in the kitchen,
Promising to come back for him later.
Soon you forget your Easter hero
With malted mini-eggs, marshmallow eggs, Cadbury eggs, jelly beans,
And Peeps, although I prefer my Peeps the next day,
A little stale.

As for Harvey, he disappears sometime during your sugar coma.
Perhaps mom decided to throw him out,
Maybe your little brother finished him off,
Or maybe he just couldn't take it anymore
And hobbled off with his stubby feet and one remaining arm
Still neatly nestled in his pocket.

I'm a chocolate bunny.
I look appealing, you might even come to me first,
But as my colors fade and my confidence melts
All that's left is a facade of strength
When in fact, I couldn't lift the box I came in
Without it crushing my fragile, hollow frame.

So Close

Have you ever come so close to a meaningful epiphany and then held your breath as you felt it slip away. It's so simple. So subtle. Just a click in time-space where all things seem to settle into their right places. Connected. Special. Eternal. But, like the little speck in your eye that creates a lighted dot in your vision, as you attempt to focus on it, it moves away. So, begins this little game. You try to trick the speck of light. You look away, but secretly use your peripheral to study the speck. However, in the end, temptation wins out. The light flits away again mockishly.

I sat at the edge of my bed today, surrounded by sorted piles of laundry: darks, lights and whites. Stranger Than Fiction played in the background. And then, completely by chance, illumination descended. The meaning of life. My purpose on this earth. The next step required for achieving the fulfillment of all my deepest aspirations. All I need to do is... I held my breath. I opened my soul to fully receive the message. I gazed directly into the face of my fate. And, just like that, it was gone.

Down and down I spiraled, hurtled back among the unknowing masses clammering amid the dark chaos of life. Waiting. Stepping into nothingness. Left with only my doubts and the lingering suspicion that my near-life experience was merely a jolt of informed persuasion brought about by a movie about literature. So swayed am I by the tone and plot of great film, I often fancy myself belonging to the story. My tone and language conform to that of the movie and this hypnotic process can last for a few hours or even the length of the day. What can I say? I'm a romantic. Hungry for inspiration. And still, no closer to knowing what to do next.

So, all I can do is this.