TASTE

"You taste of bacon," she said

licking her lips, grinning,

"I like that."

She tasted of cigarettes and coffee

but I didn't say so.

She tasted of mayonnaise and crackers

and of ice cream in the morning and eggs at night.

She tasted of longing and leering

and lonely evenings and autumn.

She tasted of her man

but I didn't say so.

"You taste of you," I said,

"I love it."