FUZZY LOLLIPOP

Here's to the fuzzy lollipop, the furry sweet surprise
that lurks in the corner of your pocket close
to your leg, swinging along in a great big stride,
high heels skating across a just-waxed floor.
Don't you feel triumphant,
except for that one small item lurking there

in the dark recesses to bring you back, trip you up,
with a presence you can't avoid, although it has
promised so much before that you held onto it
just a little bit longer than you maybe should have
until it picked up all that god knows what
from the lining of you life.  You better not

trust it now because you know where it's been--
with those bad boys, like the old penny
and the paper clip, the faded phone number
and receipt--never much use to begin with.
Your common sense tells you to spurn this sucker,
but your lust argues that lint can't be fatal, can it?