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  • The aftertaste.
    Dan.
    7 Jul 2005

    What is on the tip of my tongue?
    the awkward taste of pennies
    rusting copper and old iron
    dried blood aging meat
    A distinct flavor
    of failure
    What can only be described
    as the scent of money
    of what is opposite of the outdoors,
    the odor of Subway grit urine rot exhaust
    the pills that choke and beg to be forgotten
    Of the Unneeded and the Unwanted.
    The painful fluorscent tubes, humming with nothing
    and their twins of empty greasy takeaway trays for one.
    The pulsing of falling water,
    not falling from clouds or anceint stones
    but tubes and plumbing and piping.
    It's the taste of the push
    at the playground
    onto the blacktop tar
    with teeth slicing into and
    through
    the thin skin that lines your mouth.
    Of the sweet fluids that
    flow.
    Of paints ink oils wax dyes stains
    things that shouldn't be gnawed on
    Of unfulfilled dreams
    and everything else that starts
    with D.