like crisp cardamom pods, frankincense and myrrh/gingerbread men, half-bitten grins, mid mirth/the smiles of human strangers all cinnamon sugar, homemade galore/no mega-mall label, no brand store-bought/thirst quenched by all those end of year crackly fire romances/thirst quenched by all those murky muddy ice-glazed pools we jump, splash and dance in/those melt in the middle mud pies/even with a few festive lies/these streets taste like yum.