On falling in love with a giant tomato, of course
It was the biggest, ugliest, most beautiful thing I could see on the biologique stall, and I immediately wanted it.
Back home I sliced slowly, in abject wonderment; gently roasted huge silky slabs into a pasta sauce; then, enchanted, wrote a poem about the experience.
🍅
Is it possible to fall in love with this moment, with
how a ripened heirloom tomato skin sinks to a fingerprint
how cleaved rouged flesh faints juice, pulp, seed
how evening sun pierces steam and spice
how my throat feels, yawning open to sweet acidity
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