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