Lean                                                             ­       
Delicate                                                 ­                                                     
“ne plus ultra”                                      
Cooked slow                              
Gastronomically Intelligent        
Unassuming                                              
Gentle ­                                   
Docile
Fashionable                                  
“ne plus ultra”                                          
Ethical         ­                                         
Ecological ...    
...voices rumbling through refined-dining,

Excuse Moi, Mr.Gluttony

Since when is Meat Ethical?
If meat became so Ethical,
Then,
How Ethical You are?

Sheathing your hypocrisy                
and luck of humanity                                
with pompous words,                      
style and fancy clothes,
while you tingling your gustative papillae
with  “le goût friand”, étiquette,
capris and mannerism.
                                                    
You                                                            ­    

Don’t **** the rabbit! so                                                    
the rabbit can **** you in no time, “pooka”
          
Don’t tell                                                  
No one pre-empt you,                            
when asking for healing.

on the villa's balcony, smell of Chanel on papillae
an old siamese cat lays, while a soaked diary takes her rest
for the fountain pen's ink had smell of faint success.

the sugar smell like snow
a spilled tea smelt of rose
diving into mildness and hollows

the odeur follows;

alas! a hail of thunders had came like swords,
it had smell of blood, of rust and warmth;
but the earth smells fancy, and my flowers are in love.

in light, and in truth,
the red white days, balmy as bright weather
will peter, in no such way.

Monday night
Because weekdays make a woman ache
after a heart break

Strawberry sugar sugar
Caress me in all the warm and wet ways
(papillae)
viscously ****** strands

Broad shoulders Breathtaking Collar
Bones
Is what I’ll pick with you tomorrow
Because atleast a margarita hits the spot every time

Toss

mmmh
Darling don’t stop

Toss

Sticky pulp invigorates
Rejuvenates my taste buds
Fills my hunger
moan louder, ******* stranger

Toss

Deeper and Deeper into the papaya womb
Don’t stop! Don’t stop!
The mango the endocarp
Slurp it till it runs dry

Toss

Lap it up boy. We’re both famished
But only you know I’m the fruit piece
You’ll toss

At least I can go home if I want to. I can wash away all the earthquakes but I choose being crumbled instead. Glad you are here. You are watching me swell as I go closer to death. Is it so comfortable in my head--I think not--you do not leave me even when your body does?

This is more okay than nothing at all. I know what nothing at all means. That only means me when I am not anywhere and have nowhere to go, that only means you when you are nowhere yet everywhere but here. I am sad, too, when I had to accept that the soil, sand, sea--that all of it was you.

Was it really you, or just was the sky this blue before you left? Was it pure, or was it bitter? You sing and smoke and we talk. You smile, I stop, heart stops, flow stops, and I really have nowhere to go. If only that had tasted salty yet sweet, at least I had my own tongue. Though none of the papillae now matters.

long licks from the
corrosive coronal

pale dogwood papillae wet-sanding
bare-necked baby girl's earth-salted skin

a square of silicon carbide
refining away dings and scratches

leaving acid streaks and worrying
mouth-shapes into the finish

diligent downturned crescents

to be touched is to lose

top soil to the clutching wind
another game with the warden

a finger to the table saw
dead leaves to the defoliator

she swallows her loot like a librarian
lunching on a primary manuscript