Imagine if
we hold
the only grape
in the world ever.

No one else before,
no one else after
will enjoy. Just us.
Only we can tell of it.

But how share the taste?
To compare it
to any other savor
would miss its utter identity.

How to tell the feel?
How teeth burst skin,
how juice floods hollows of mouth,
molars crush skin to mash.

It takes a dance,
music, song, a poem
to tell this
come upon surprise.

Now imagine:
If every grape we meet and eat
could be as this.
The selfsame one and only,
ever.

August 4, 2011