Juicy Things About Driving and Restaurants

Juicy Things About Driving and Restaurants

delicacy slides down your throat

the moment rice fields prove their existence

- white storks, chimneys, iron bridges growing into the landscape -

the plausible you

stacks tear drops until light vanishes away

behind cork molded hills

and the mind - starlings, ibis, egrets - sets forth into a drive of its own

mysterious ingredients

cut the surface wide open

and juicy things pop up

at mile 196

parked trucks, big fat cars and signs

blinking – stone soup, fish soup, all sort soup -

the sun splashes its mild winter odor

above the remnants of trees

where chickens, ducks, doves

play one of your childhood dearest scenes

in memoriam

and once inside, the waitress, the ribbed vault, columns, hiding hooks

- are you on your own, sir, what will your order be, red, white?

big screens, one on the right, one behind

merged space

and sound – forks, glasses, someone whispering

seductively about fear while you

attempt one smile

each time the waitress passes by

again last days' rain will keep falling

from north to south

but not today, today every square inch of earth

sweats

impudently

as me inside you, migrating terns – dark coffee

blended hair, naked neck and shoulders, the touch of

my forehead in your

occipital bone -

and then you're finished

- are you ready, sir?

deliciously gorged, one is back on the road

with nothing but tastes swirling

all around your tongue

the exquisite feeling of liquor - left you behind

by the table - now it's only me

and a measurable conviction of solitude

ahead

just another

200 miles

© 2016, José Eduardo Coelho