| the taste of remembrance you reminded me of memory. not a memory. but memory. that twisted lift of something. something. something caught on the roof of my mouth like peanut butter. but it is a soft mystery that wafted in on winds I had not smelled since midnight in Venice, with the jasmine and the dreams that coiled in eddies of air caught in the shadows that melted into you. false to your nature. false to my hunger. your shoulders bare to my touch. your eyes closed to my thoughts. and all else open and warm and something like music. something like music when it comes upon you suddenly, but beautifully, like a lover at first waking. and memory tasted a lot like your lips. copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv). |
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