I want to waddle in its commas and sit quiet in the pool of its surging glory. I want to see the chunks of an incessant tidal wave puddle round my feet while the remnants of her sticky chewed gum sit quiet on my tongue. I want to hear her slow flavors peel off into a liquid syrup.
I can feel her bumps meld into me like an electrifying tangent of roots waiting to be throbbed. It is here I wait, camped in the silky juices, head covered, sound throbbing deep within an empty hole.
I want to learn the drawl of an apricot.
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