Seconds

Seconds

I've tasted many dishes from fine dining to pocket money. I've tasted wines of ridiculous value and drank from kegs of suburban house party. I’ve used toothpicks to pick the dirt from the cranks between teeth. I’ve washed my mouth with minty fresh drink. And as time ticks I find myself reminiscent of that original dish. That nurturing taste that rests upon pink plate, lingering, within concave crevices of my molar teeth. As I slide the point of my tongue across the tops, and rewind time to relive the motion of my jaw upon chew. And with each new bite I lose a piece of peculiar cuisine. That alluring, captivating, exotic, tasteful, ridiculously ample cuisine. Oh, how I long to salivate, lick, taste, the freshness. Oh, how I long for another plate.