Oct 06
poem, nonfiction challenge: Taste

San Diego: A History in Taste

San Diego. My home away from home. Salty spray stinging my toungue. Playing with my hair and flirting with my face. A spicy two-step mirrors my heartbeat. Echoing off Spanish missions and stucco roofs.

My first summer there reminds me of chocolate. A kind lady with deep wrinkles saw my beaming birthday face, guided me to the candy store, and let me fill my arms with sweets. And there was chocolate. Melting in my mouth, gliding down my throat, leaving me with the rich, classic flavor. Already I was begging for more. More chocolate, more days spent, drowning in summer's bliss. 

I was drunk on it. Bright and sharp as champagne. Wearing rose tinted glasses in an already golden world. 

I didn't know reminiscing would become a fickle thing. Sifting through a layer of wistfulness like sprinkled sand.