Ding Dong

Everyday's now strewn with 
wonders disappearing unremarked. 
I give you yesterday.  
Something almost utterly 
unspecial. Ding Dongs. 
For sale at a food-court
restaurant. Except, except
I hadn't tasted one in years. 
I wanted to call. I wanted 
to ask if you ever sat on a 
curb in summertime, you and
your best friend. No plans. 
Nibbling the chocolate shell 
till only spongy puck remained. 
Which you gulped. I wanted 
to ask if you ever conjured 
pterodactyls from the foil wrappers,
then flew them round the lawn. 
If some lost creatures momentarily 
took flight.