My words feel like pieces of food on a shelf. I pick them out, rearrange them, and give them a taste as they might go down together.

And if they feel right in my mouth, on my tongue, once they pass my inspection and adjustment, once I cut them and cook them as they beckon to be, I lay them out on a plate for your viewing, consumption.

I want to see if you like the way they look, do they taste unexpected and delicious to you. And when they go down together in the way I’ve arranged, do they satisfy you.

Can you lean back and say yes, someone has reached the belly of my heart.

~ cj 2011.01.19

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