The nose is the special oat bread and wheat germ butter you prepared for the gluten-free girlfriend you’re trying to get rid of. When that didn’t work right away, you ate the thick slabs of toast in the bed to see if she’d kick you out. Still, she stayed. Wisps of peat fuel for a toy car that rockets down the streets. Monkey breath mints. Green apples (sour).
The mouth sparks with a compliment that began as an insult, which is to say, it’s all fire and smoke at first but then it generously offers candies from a child normally unwilling to share. Just-laundered bed sheets. Warm kisses. I’ll have to check the label, but I could swear this is aged in apple barrels. Yes, I’m quite sure of it. Apple barrels used for apple bobbing.
The finish is lined with creosote. When I say “torfa,” loudly, the smoke clears a bit in the throat and I get shiny candies in primary colors. When I say it really loudly, I start to see those same primary colors in a cloudy halo around my peripheral vision. (Thanks, Obamacare!) But then you see the gluten-free girlfriend differently now, and what you see you like. You like it a lot. (Thanks, Glenglassaugh!)