~My delicate Date with Flowers~
CULINARY CROSS-DRESSER

Today I slumped off the high-path, nesting my backpack between some stones. Lounging in a modest ruin of nature’s rubble. Fondling fragment pieces of charred remains and the late kindling, fallen after little burn.

Having found a view down the themed valleys & rises. Pine/Eucalypt grove here — Fern Gully there. Barren mounds of a Farmer’s pride; a green plain, distant enough not to vice versa. Yonder like bokeh the blandness.. lush.

After a practice of breaths… as if breathing. Decided comfort wasn’t worth the struggle. Pulling sun dried apricots and glazed strawberries out the side pocket of my “neglected for the cause of careless”-Photographer Backpack.

Eventually feeling settled enough, not to die here. But perhaps make a treat of such a regular, beautiful day. A trite testimony: an ‘Adelaide that should be renamed The Azure City’… kind of day. Brisk with blooms, crisp-cloudless. 

One Strawberry savoured for the experiment. Drifting lull into the slump again, favouring the tounge attention (even just as echoes), over the body of a crook spine and those lax mechanisms, forfeiting ambulation for a soak —

Suddenly the sunlight felt like a touch to my toes. Perhaps another day, it would be known as rather hot, black fabric. Today however, was salvaged from slumber and slung together like adorn a last minute Corset. Quite well.

Aware not of people, not of… creatures — no. Aware of the giver of breaths. The surrounds as entities; as perhaps essences; as perhaps a malleable, mutually consolable breeze, of a reciprocal efficacy. Finite — gestural.

Interjecting thoughts of ‘What is..?’; such as Fire…? Non-scientifically. Not “how does it catch”… but as a purpose, of the medium, of the catching purpose. What is — . Sure — a vapor train reaction, triggered for release.

There is a method to the madness, but to query the half-burnt? The in-absolute nature of a happening. Is that a half purpose? Or simply the diversification of reality, because the lack of reason — breeding purpose(s).

Interjecting a thing pondered greatly, it can be said; “interjecting procrastination, with an idea!”. One Apricot piece, One Strawberry, Two Apricot… No. An Idea. A Strawberry, between two Apricot halves….

Coal-dusted finger tips from the playful pondering on matter, to mind… not mind over something mattering — no a break from breaking the mind from the body. Contaminated fingers. Culminates… to Sandwhich with Teeth !

Somehow … two moments emerge. A feeling that fruition of such an idea was perverse to such a train of thoughts of ‘What’ — externally. Or perhaps such a feeling, triggered by incidental timing — the environment cued.

However it was… from feeling perverse — to suddenly… Watched. As the wind had ceased completely. I felt as though — all these Trees especially… were baited eyes. Whilst I thought of human, fruitless plant relations.

Too absorbed with this sense that every plant, not as an object… but of the essences they glow… were mingling a not so smothering glance at me. It felt like… I had suddenly become very involved, in a raunchy Porno.

Not even paying much attention to the flavours, as I made quizical motions to experiment more with the maybe squashing, maybe flippancy, maybe licking, maybe fluency. I suddenly tasted — apriberry; strawbericot.

Not tasted it as a taste, but was tasting it… as it happened… as it was many things and many combinations, with any number of interactions… it made alot more sense than it probably should have. It was happening.

Two completely foreign entities, were gang-banging their molecules and bacteria. My saliva was the catalyst and maybe that is all Love is. Bacteria, mingling. Cast the mind to my querying the debris; questioning the twigs.

“Is a broken twig now two things; has it lost a part of itself in becoming more quantitative¿ What is the qualitative loss of dividing an entity that was a piece at that¿ As I sentient: given or taken from its’ nature/course

“Is heat just the pain of Bacteria¿ Is heat we know, really the same scientific ‘heat’ without Is astronomical heat, only known to Humans, by empathy as osmotic pleasure and suffering. A buffer: signals of flux fury”

It seemed clearest in the silence that was not empty, but lifted by essences I; holding each their own for a moment to soak in my peculiarity. So much so those chorusing crickets following my satisfaction, following swallows.

As if my satisfaction had pique their interest… and their “Well if he’s getting some…” was so ordinary to me, it passed by as though it didn’t happen… right after I had finished making a love, commonly known as eating a thing.

Yet it was as on cue as the room of leaves, not wanting so much to leave for a moment in time. But quite content with such a perverse occurance. Not of a peasant mammal, fondling coal like a fool, or twigs in hair. Idea!

An idea that was not something that was thought, but something that happened. Simply because to me it seemed novel. Yet to what matters to Trees… quite a profound thing, in all the eons for such a fruitfully aware — chew.

No… not a break from the reality of people persuasions happened today. Today I figured… to be loved by Life… of the must to be Sensual… Subtly erotic. Life & love — or Lovelife… not so different… alone or knot.

There was something Universally (to Nature) fascinating in that moment. With the multicultural taste, my legs tingled, but not like losing blood pressure to a pinch. Most like a both-knowing smile, causing strange love.


S
αD❧

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