as i walk out onto the front porch
the coolness of the midnight air
surprises my skin
pink and warm
from baking on a summer evening
too stubborn to submit to fall.
and as i slide my fork into this tender flesh
the sudden eroticism of the meal
surprises me, too.
the warm dew of brown sugar and butter coats my lips
and soft strands of golden squash melt on my tongue.
the slight subtle crunching of quinoa
the delicate bursting of cranberry
as my teeth sink in
slow.
as i swallow my first bite,
a wave of electricity comes over me
and a sudden smile takes over my face
as i realize,
much to my surprise,
that i am
fully
deliciously
erotically
alive.
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