Supremely cold cucumber soup
Colored a light, light green cream,
That seems to effervesce
In the mind. Small delightful
Bubbles of summer coolness put
Directly into opposition with a
Habaňero sun. A dark smokey heat
That takes over your mouth slowly,
Reminding you of lips that were
There before, but now,
You are acutely aware of every wrinkle and pore.
A drop of sweat punctuates the experience
As it slips quietly to the
Tip of your nose.
You grin fiercely through the
Distraction, dabbing at your nose with
One hand while focusing primarily
On the spoon, as it delivers
Explosion after explosion to the tongue.
Glancing toward your companion
Who is watching with an
“I told you so,” smirk,
You profess with each bite as to
How good it is, because it is that good.
And even if it were awful,
To stop now would be to
Admit defeat and suffer the barbs
That your friends would use to
Spice the days to come
In quite a different way.