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Writer's pictureKatrina Dutt

blue

It feels like I've never

seen this much blue sky

After months of stone and

gray blocking my vision,

an almost unbounded sky—

the winter kind: pale and

a little more fragile—

heals my soul


Driving, and

the sun's rays check in on

me

through my window


I place my head in

my lover's lap

I see his hand on the wheel

his other caressing my breast

I close my eyes to melt

into the moment,

into the music,

into the bliss

A disco of orange and

shadow on my eyelids


And every time I open my eyes

blue sky

all around

out every window


 

orange


It's 65 degrees out

I squint even with my sunglasses

I haven't worn them in a month

It feels so good


We walk the four desert blocks

to stabby Smiths

It's our first grocery day together


Inside, I head straight for the produce section

I positively need

green, sour,

bright, fresh


I let the fruits and vegetables call to me

I answer by pulling them into our cart

oranges, kiwis, radishes,

bell peppers, mixed greens, avocados


Juice!

I want juice!

We maneuver in front of the orange juice

I forgot how it's an entire section

no pulp, low pulp, medium pulp, high pulp

only here do we really care that much about our pulp

It makes us laugh abashedly


We lug our groceries home

I immediately pour a cup of orange juice

the medium pulp fills my mouth fully, thickly

the acidity and sweetness awaken my dormant tastebuds

I smile


OJ is good and all

but I need an orange


Orange smiles taste better than an orange peeled

so I cut one open

the purest form of OJ

trickles down my throat and fingers

It is messy eating, but that's part of the pleasure


I eat one slice after another

faster and faster

I can't get enough







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