The SMWS 48.29

Tasting notes:
On the nose, the smell of my keyboard after blowing it with aerosol spray.  No, not the unpleasant parts of that smell.  The reverse, in fact.  It’s the association this smell brings with feelings of freshness and new beginnings.  It is a nose of renewal.  My fingers hover over the now-smudgeless set of keys waiting, like paratroopers, to drop down in execution of the commands of my muse.  Early reconnaissance shows these details: passion fruit, pineapple in a crepe, carrier pigeon feathers dipped in food coloring to make edible watercolor paintings.  Toner for the laser printer at Heaven’s gate (you do not want to see St. Peter when the cartridge is empty.)
     The mouth is an herb-studded banana next to a cigar pricked by glistening arrows fired by Cupid crouched on an elephant’s trunk.  (Sometimes herb studs are just herb studs.)  Just as I have the thought that Cupid dipped the arrows in honey I realize that honey was simply the solution he used to suspend his magical love potion.  For I have fallen in love with this dram.  I’m an orphaned gosling imprinted to a Roomba.  I follow it around the room marveling as it picks it all up, it picks it all up.  None of the other geese can appreciate the thoroughness and determination and precision of –Hey guys, wouldya look at this Roomba for a minute!  Jeez!
     This finishes like a ladies perfume hovering in the empty elevator car.  By the time I reach my floor I’m resolved that I would have walked into an open elevator shaft to find the woman who wore this.  Tropical fruit brine, pages from a new magazine fanned by a reader bored with the articles, and essence of cinnamon toast with (you guessed it) the cinnamon removed.  With my final sip a microscopic black hole forms in my mouth and sucks all the goodness of life into a singularity, and I find myself into another realm….where there’s a whole bunch of Roombas working in a kitchen the size of a basketball court.

Rating: