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She is sitting alone in a cafe at noon, sipping dark black coffee
and letting the hot, bitter fluid soak deep into her tongue. Each
time her lips touch the porcelain cup she remembers them. It's
easy to forget your lips, but this afternoon, as she licks the
rim of her mug, slurping up the extra coffee, she feels her lips,
knows exactly what they look like, where they are most sensitive,
and how they taste. She's never been so aware of her lips in her
life.
A young man passes her, staring over her table as he carries tea
to his booth. She smiles to herself, pleased that he looked and
grateful he didn't stay. She wants to be alone with her mug, its
firm rim and the warm sensation it brings to the edge of her mouth.
She wants to taste the dark privacy of her morning and swallow
it in her own good time.
Her lips, as she remembers them in her mind, are small, thin slivers
of pale pink flesh. The points on top are not sharp, but sweetly
curved. The edges, just where her lips become the inside of her
mouth, are darker-a juicy crimson color. They are most sensitive
right there, on that edge, where the nerves become moist. All
along her tongue are the tastes of coffee, skin, water.
Two women pass but they don't look her way. The women are holding
hands and talking. She listens to their voices, one deep, the
other high and squeaky. She wonders what it might be like to taste
their voices. If such a thing were possible, she might like to
slink into those women's mouths, swim across their tongues, and
drink their voices like juice. She imagines them: one deep, the
other high and squeaky. Their voices give flavor to her coffee.
One voice is cream, the other sugar. For the rest of the day,
whenever she licks her lips, she will taste their full-bodied
sweetness at the back of her throat.
Having lips, she thinks, is like owning a plantation. You fertilize
the earth. You grow crops. With the pointed tip of your tongue,
you can till the soil, spinning flavors forward and backward across
the terrain. Keep licking. Keep tasting the budding nerves all
along the edge. Go on and slide your lips together letting the
day's textured flavors swish inside your mouth.
You will have reaped a harvest. |