I have this theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum.
When I was a kid, my tongue was a permanent shade of bright pink. Shoving as many pieces of BubbleYum into my mouth as I could fit was the epitome of happiness, and when I could fit an entire package at once I knew there was nothing I couldn’t achieve.
And I’m sure that right now if you cut me open my stomach would be a fluorescent pink, because
when I see your face in my mind as I’m sitting in class or
when your name is on my tongue before I fall asleep,
that’s what it tastes like.
Bubblegum.
But please don’t cut me open. My dissection would be too ****** anyway, and far too colorful to detect butterflies…
Because my blood runs red, white, and blue.
When I was younger my mom would always tell me that as I grew older my tastes would change. Of course, she meant that eventually I would grow to like peas, but even though that still hasn’t happened, she was right.
Back then red, white and blue tasted like
hamburgers
and apple pie
and baseball.
But just recently I cut my finger –
and as I brought it to my lips I tasted
lingonberries
and fish and
skiing.
Have you ever wondered why blood tastes like metal? It is the
SWORDS and SHIELDS
that flow through my veins,
passed down from ancestors of millennia past. And every time I am injured it pours out in protest, those ancient warriors urging me to fight against this strange land and this strange culture.
I was born away from home, as were my parents and grandparents before me. And as I feel the shapes of foreign words in my mouth they taste like meeting an old friend. Because I’ve come to realize that my blood never ran red, white and blue.
It runs rødt, hvitt og blått.