On my way to lunch, I walk wet sidewalks
Hood up over hat, I look down more than up
Cars whiz past as I wait at an intersection

Round the corner I make my way
Across one street and down the other  
When what do I see? But salt water taffy.

Little pieces scattered about like cigarette butts
All these edible treats unspent and still wrapped
Not yet untwisted, opened up, and unstuck 
with thumbs and index fingertips

Still kept in their clean white encasements,
These pastel taffy dandies have won the wet T-shirt contest
And are now neglected down to the toes.