I want to taste pistachio ice cream straight from your mouth, lick the melt from your chin and chest.
I want to go back to my first taste of ice cream , me standing on the hill in St. Lucia leading to the general hospital. It was a hot sunny day. My mother and I had just left the hospital. Walking down the road, I saw this white van with pretty pictures painted on it. There was a joyful jingling emanating from van. I saw the picture of cones with whipped cream on top. I looked and then turned around and stared at my mother. She asked me did I want one. I said yes, not knowing what to expect. The man in the van smiled and asked me what favour would I like? I stood perplexed. He pointed to the green whipped cream and said that this one is nice. I agreed to his suggestion, in the absence of not knowing what any of the flavours tasted like. He handed me the ice cream cone. I stood there looking at it, my mother then said are you going to eat it? She took it from my hands and showed me how to eat the ice cream.
And then, I tasted heaven, the pistachio, the coldness of this heavenly creation, the smooth glycerin texture. They had me smiling inside. The experience made me want to skip and dance.
So are my longing and expectation that you will induce the same euphoria in me. For the first time, to kiss and taste you, for the experience to leave a similar imprint on my mind.
I have been seeking to repeat my first taste of ice cream to relive the occasion. Some say one can never replicate the sensations of the first time. Alas, none that I have tasted since has met my expectations.
I, however, have not abandoned hope. My desire is that I can revisit you and so relive the first time again, for each rendezvous will be like the first. Ad infinitum, if not physically, then in my mind.