11.26.17 – Carboned
I chose orange and cream thinking the combination would spin like a yo-yo of my youth and be as lazy as it could be in returning a memory to me. It was puckering and sweet in that way that only chemicals and dry thirst can swell and meld on. It only hinted at its title, but the tone and content were worn well enough to make amends. The beads sat around the rim as gems beckoning for sip and lip to take a first taste for the second time just in case I hadn’t let it truly ripen from tree to tongue. But it had. These were drops straight from the sun, the ones that rain banished for holding too tightly to their color. They’d blush a reddish amber standing next to those envious and grey great hounds. It would have been a devastating loss to have them blended, diluted by the dishwater flavor of a grumpy sky. So I drank it slowly and savored the suggestion of sun in Fall’s springtime.
Green apple was left hanging in the breeze, bitter and with arms folded. Initially I hadn’t wanted to approach such a sour counterpart and hadn’t yet contemplated it in a viscous suicide until I’d steadied on all the flavors from their own homes. This one would’ve caught my attention in several other forms, all solids, but as it stood, it had been laid about against some other unique individuals that didn’t often settle in with a carbonated crowd. I was already well on my way down to the sunshine state when I felt I should turn back and give a poke at the other fruit in the tree. Still, that shy rose didn’t seem ready to present for this tea-time and I was stuck dumping out the fizz of a failed romance that hadn’t even officially started. The syrup was absent and everything that should have been slow about that pour became a tapped hydrant instead. I dropped our star to brace for a raspberry that was elicited by shoddy craftsmanship and poor timing. It left the middle of the day a touch damp and airier than I’d have liked.