I held the popsicle’s wooden base as fruit juice sprinted & laced my hand
I enter it into my mouth to catch the first flavor wave as it crash onto my beached tongue. An iceburg washed ashore, it melts inside my arid summer mouth and brings my temperature down 10 degrees.
Leaking sugar sweet water on thirsty taste buds as an offering for their worship. Each drop sending them into a euphoric trance The multi-flavors bewildered my brain’s identity recognition.
To the point,
My mind visualizes a grapple, a strawnana, and an orange pineapple.
Muscles of my tongue become coils of boa constrictor wrapped around popsicle.
Squeezing and breaking it down until the last drop. Sucking the juices down my throat like a vacuum from Hoover.
Damn! It taste so good.
My joy concludes as the stick is scrape clean by my teeth and out the mouth.