Caramel apple, dulce filled, burning spoon, Dark smell of nori, wrappers dark and bright, What secret flavor is clasped between your layers? What primal palate does crab touch with its pincers? Ai, Love is a journey through all dive bars, Where closeted air tastes sharply of fermented grain: Love is a war of lightening Two recipes ruined by artificial sweetness. Lick by lick, I drink your tiny infinity, Your margarine, your almonds slivered, your Maillard villages, Ribs generate fire, transformed by heat’s bite, Smoke pink through the marrow channels of blood To precipitate a nocturnal consummation To be dinner, eaten by fridge light in the dark.