It looks like rain, fired from the deep Like splotches of mystical saliva And the sound it makes, a pixie’s scream Followed by clumsy giants It tastes like cherry but ends in tangerine And there’s a tartness long after That begs to be solved with yet another bite Mixed with the cool taste of evening clouds It’s cheers falling upwards Abstract drips Sprinkles of light Illuminating flecks of its point of origin And mystifying the rest of us, I suppose It’s a treat, not a meal A rare indulgence