Just a sliver on the tongue,
eyes closed,
my head rocks like Stevie Wonder for the
layers in this cheese.
How does this slice,
no bigger than a tack,
compare to a stack
of plastic-wrapped american cheese?
Am I finished with the tasteless,
candy-colored,
numb-tongue empty?
A droplet stretches into an ocean,
of blackberry,
of caper,
now basil.
New life is birthed here,
upon the buds,
not with cesarian and doctor bills,
but with
whole cream teats,
plated wind,
full-bodied rain,
water with legs.
Corner-clip me some 85% cacao,
for
next,
each day,
one grain of rice.
Here is the trick:
each grain contains
the world
of every taste
within.
Life as Improv 