Distant Sugar

Written for the Muse Ariadne Project.

The sight of neon lights in a cold dark night
Is a popsicle, usually cherry-red,
Sometimes electric imaginary blue.
It doesn't taste like berries.
It's the chill, the work of bending wire,
And the manmade super-natural.
It speaks a super-language, to the
Nerves seeking sunlight and sugar,
Refined into one pure wash
Called saturation.

Only from a distance, though.
Close enough to taste,
The buzzing's bitter.
The thrown-off heat
Melts this icy night.