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Climacteric

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I think of the letter C, and think of a nice ripe cantaloupe. The orange soft inside of the sweet goodness as it hits your tongue. I can see the green and smell freshness of it soaring through the air. I cut it open with a sharp, but slightly dull knife it runs down the silver and the handle and drips onto the plate, and down the wall of the cantaloupe. I cut it into little sections and when I do, it slithers down into the paper plate and began making it transparent. I take the plate and poured the juice down the sink. The sound of the juice running down the sink sounds like the rain when it hits the rooftop of your house.





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