There’s an out-of-the way place to dine, Up the road a piece, At the intersection of you and you, and you. A restaurant for all senses, An around the world tour.
It’s a difficult junction, Topography complex, Topology convoluted. Get there take the watery path, Nexus of liquids.
Swamp water, reptile mind, Slow pulse of tropical sun, The tongue flicks to taste the direction. Igauna swan dive, head south. Lie on your back, float down that river, Chuck that harpoon, rock that little man in the boat.
In the warmth of the ocean, Pheromones stream along, Trace molecular paths; A multi-dimensional crossroad, A network of feeling, mapped by that flick, Out, in to the roof of the mouth.
Newly born tastebuds unwrithe, Stretch, Envelop nodular/taste/round, Assimilate in clasping toroidal pulses, Signal to distant appendages, “South, south.”
Iguana dance the bivalve, baby, the new hot glide, The bearded oyster cult’s. got a brand new tune.
Smelts and slippery dicks in brine, Tiger mussel, green-stripe, deveined angels, Gooey duck, earth clam, all in a lemon grass broth.
My head jerks (what’s that smell?), Flash of silvery scale, Astroglide in blue, “Grab it with both hands and push, matey,” This one’s likely to get away.
A gentle nudge, a course correction, An intimation from some distant stroking. Perhaps I’ll just eat in. Tonight.