Schoolyard ghosts

When the lollies are passed around
     they’re never the ones I like.
     They’re always sucrose-hit fake-colour
     convenience store cheapies.

I like
     deep chocolate
     dense fudge
     soft glucose
     slow savour.
Not available
     on just any corner. You
unwrap one
     let me scent it
I reach out
     but you snatch it back and hide it.
When I protest you say
     Don’t be so sensitive.
     See? It’s not even real.

The walls echo the laughs
     of the schoolyard ghosts
     trapped in the concrete
     science blocks

     of my head
     and yours