The Proving Ground

Adam, a man made of dirt

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copa casandwich
young men jostling in line
jockeying for the chance to meet the pretty lady

she bites her lip on a smile
standing at the door inside her room at the top of the stairs
she can hear them vying for a position to escort her

a last tug on her smart cap
the door swings wide

every man on the staircase in his finest dress
not a single one taking a breath or daring to move

the lady descends through their collective sigh
musky spicy warm crunchy
each taste in turn a delight

she is a paragon of decorum in a raging sea of youthful lusting

= = =
That’s what happened in my mouth when I tasted the meal you just made.


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