When I was younger, I craved

only to be around people filled

with sadness or ale.

I could not contain my yearning

to experience them

when they were down and out.

It always left me euphoric.

After, in a poorly-lit, walled alley,

if too tipsy,

I would just cling

to the shadows until I could fly.

It has been a millennium

or four, and I know

I should hang out

with the dinner crowd

or at the salad bar more.

Alas, vegetarians

always leave me wanting.

Nowadays, I prefer to dwell

in a donut shop,

among people with a sweet tooth

all plump, jelly-filled.

Whose lazy pulse beats

rich music to my ears.

I roost in the shady corner

and enjoy the smell

of dough-sugared bellies

while sipping a dark roast,

waiting for the ring-a-ling

of some sorry sucker strolling in

for an early morning fix.

Their desire for something warm

in which to sink their fangs.

I, too, know this craving as I lurk,

still unsatisfied, hoping for a favorite

to enter before daylight.

I must not linger

to watch the sunrise,

returning instead

to my velvet-lined bed.

A few come

and go, greedily ordering  

a dozen – plus one dipped in chocolate.

But then, ahh, that special treat

breezes into the shop,

in a dress with unique sprinkles.

What a rush it is as I savor

her ambrosial perfume

wafting from across the room.

And, oh yes, I think I will enjoy

another, plain.

I can treat myself to two.

I’ve been good all week.