Loitering

This taste...
this taste, in my mouth
it lingers
tarrying as it tears apart my insides

A flavor that is more potent
than that of onions, and garlic
Their afterthought is still a "present-thought"
by the way they loiter around my tastebuds
clinging to the thought of a livelihood
that was chewed up long ago

The irony of this acrid, acidity is that
This sulfur: in "the now"
satiated me: in "the then"
with its infantile sweetness.
The taste...

The taste began as juicy and as promising
as delight found in a Navel Orange.
A goblet of goodness past its skin.

Though I've found that once-again...
The rinds have stuck in my teeth.

The once delicious, has soured.
Undergone memory-metamorphasis.

I can't get rid of its membrane! Clinging...
Clinging to between my teeth and gums
like that of irritating gristle after a good steak.
and I'm stuck...

I'm stuck with this flavor...

I'm quite ready to savor the rigors of life-floss, soul-wash,
and a gentle scrubbing of my heart.





Greggy-D