Ginger

(musings that came after smelling freshly cut ginger—enjoy!)

Not quite ripe yet.
It’s the green banana,
the gawky 14 year-old you know will be a heartbreaker
in a few years.

I smell the grass—
laying in the grass
uncovered in the pungent smell—
completely coated and naked (strange paradox)
and stretched out for any passing he or she to see.

Maybe we’ll roll around
together and smell of grass
for days.
We’ll have tanned bodies,
tan every inch until
no pale flesh remains.

We are not ripe yet—
there’s fumbling and
bumping
but it suits our curiosity and the urgency.
Soon we’ll know each other like the backs of our hands
and the freshness will have faded
along with the smell.

Let us taste and rub and fumble
while we can.