Dear friend,

little by little
at our weekly
park bench lunches
i begin to
serve up my sorrow
always in small
bite-sized pieces
like finger foods
on a high chair tray
slices of my darker side
carefully wrapped
and presented
little sour sweet
anecdotes and memories
lemon drops
to slowly suck
as they're stuck
in the side of your cheek
nothing too bitter
to make you gag
some thoughts i chew
in silence
as our children run off
to play.