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68 The Taste of It The taste of it like lake water in paradise her nipple swirling like a chocolate in the mouth, the bump of it like blood coursing in the body, what you guess when thrust meets thrust in the darkness. What tastes plain somehow like the air when you gasp, the reaching back to days on days that blur with plenitude so that the details and the sorrow and the nail you stepped on disappear and it is only blue sky and the stars you can taste— knowing what you’ve always wanted has come and sizzles on the tongue. This thing that is so difficult to name— this sting of flame that never hurt me. The taste of water when you are thirsty. ...

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