If you were a fruit, you'd be a tomato. Not a store bought tomato, the ones that come from sterile greenhouses and facilities. No, not those impostors. They reek of florescent lightingand chemicals. They have the consistency of Styrofoam and they taste like a lie. You are not a lie. You are fresh from the garden, your skin taut and split, unable to contain your sweet core. You smell of black dirt and sun. You are summer, all long days and evening symphonies of cicadas and crickets. And I can never get my fill of you, can never find enough ways to devour you.
10 comments:
I love it! All the sounds and smells of summer.....great stuff!
I think I have that stretched and wrinkled skin you refer too ... I loved your Magpie!!!
Oh, I love this. What a beautiful tribute: "You smell of black dirt and sun. You are summer, all long days and evening symphonies of cicadas and crickets."
Love does have a certain smell- it reminds me of my husband, when I first met him I just wanted to smell him...amazing that sense of Love...bkm
I just wish you were talking about me! Reminded me of the pear eating scene in the film Tom Jones!
Ah, I love this!!
delightful magpie!
Nicely done!
ooh, girl, this magpie is sensational...full of harmony and a fluid movement that was delightful to my senses! do you really hate tomatoes? if so, it's hard to believe with the way you wrote :)
Thanks, everyone! I really enjoyed this one. And Sheri, no I adore tomatoes but the person this was written for, despises them. I don't think the title really works. I suck at titles and line breaks. :)
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