There’s nothing wrong with the colour blue,
except the humble cheese they told me to try,
already smearing sour thickness on my salted biscuits.
A taste you get used to, they said.
But what about what I wanted to sample
in judicious or generous amounts?
An easier sour, the segmented kind—
take a peel from that automobile
taking taste buds on solo trips
to any cool languid place,
searching their pulpy insides,
seeking the truth of their matter.
What kind of sight would you believe?
Draining clues right out of my arms
’cause phlebotomy is just too important
to waste a tender moment not knowing.
I’ll have to hold still long enough.
Be firm and take it. Don’t leave
anything to chance while I’m quietly
holding my breath.
If your throat is dry, think about lemons.
I hear that helps.