He’s afraid to tell his friends this,
but one of his favorite things to do
is tasting words.
It actually makes sense.
After all, a poem is a soup,
and of course he has to carefully taste
each separate word
before he releases it into the pot.
Some special words
have the finest flavors,
and frequently he savors them
for many minutes as the poem
simmers on his desk.
If you passed his house at such a time,
you might see him
hunched over his desk,
smiling and licking his lips.
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