Oh, Strawberry!
A juicy explosion, a triumphant squelching dispersion of taste that fills the mouth and lingers after swallowing
OR
Oh, Strawberry!
Just one blissful bite it breathes. And then what? A juicy explosion, a triumphant squelching dispersion of taste that fills the mouth and lingers after swallowing.
OR
It's difficult to be literal when talking about a strawberry, and even more so when writing about one. The very idea of them seems so abstract. They are bright red and juicy, seedy and delicious on their own or dipped in chocolate. Or when they're added to a fruit salad or regular salad for that matter. Yet this one strawberry is a literal as they come. It just wants to be eaten. It lays there in the bowl, alone and passive, bright and languid. On its side, with the green bits slightly exposed, and starkly contrasting to create Christmas. One could chop it into bits I suppose, and in fact some would probably get the urge to. But not this strawberry. It wants to be eaten whole. One swift bite and off with its head. If you could call all that it is its head that is. I doubt that the seeds would even interrupt with much texture. They are small and try to hide, for there can be no mar on this juicy surface, no indent and no mark. I bet they would actually make it more delicious; provide a tiny touch of welcome grit to such perfection. And they would never presume to get stuck in anybody's teeth. That's exactly the type of strawberry that this one is. A dangerous snake, or apple presented by a snake for that matter- waiting to strike after tempting. Just one blissful bite it breathes. And then what? A juicy explosion, a triumphant squelching dispersion of taste that fills the mouth and lingers after swallowing. Yet this strawberry knows, just as I do, that it is practically lethal. As it lays there, patiently waiting with its juices barely contained to almost bursting, it knows of my allergies. And it beautifully/deliciously/tantalizingly mocks them.
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