salt

Salt. (10 minutes to write using the senses)

 

White grains of tropical sand, filtering through my hand, caught in the creases of my palm, beaded into the strands of my hair. Tiny crystallized snowflakes, opaque pearls, gritty chips, flourescent. Spilling onto the floor in protest, nestling into the cracks of the floorboard, sticking to bottoms of bare feet, lapped up by the family dog. Alliance with a glass of water- yin and yang. Flaky from the sea, displayed in glass chinaware with shiny silver hats at the local pizza joint, iodized and calculated, chemical, in mom's big blue cylinder with the paper wrapping. Generously shaken to give a first recipe attempt new life. Doubled back after a trip to the doctor's. All things in balance. Silvery saliva temptress, coarse on molars, crunched then washed down. Rimming a glass on the shore and keeping the Dead Sea's intrepid travelers on their backs in the water. Stinging the eye, caressing the palette, everywhere. 

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