Confession

This time of year it is difficult to resist the sweetness of temptation.

The succulent red globed cherries shockingly shaped like a circumcised penis head. (Think of that next time you bite down hard to the pit, or as you lick it clean to bite again…)

The golden plum with it’s burnished shadow of orange. It smells like when I was twenty-one and all those pleasures plucked from that tree.

The dripping watermelon, wiped away with the back of a greedy hand.

Sweetness everywhere… an overabundance of it. The bees must be heady with the scent of nectar.

To taste something so surprisingly wonderful, to dip first your fingers then your tongue… to glut on the heady experience of taking in too much “Pinch me now” sensation…. this is summer.

I could eat honey and still it would be competition to the saccharine I taste on a lip or nipple, or even better yet; the greedy slurping of passions. The sing song of a mouth full…

Oh such bliss in our greedy intake of the season.

Ah, but sugar, bees are not the only ones drunk.


G.