Juice runs down young chins. The drip of spring dew, dancing on tongues. Equal
measures of sour and saccharine syrup. Our brash youth. Hands grab greedy flesh
in soft teeth. A delicious snarl. We dare to take more. To reach among the leaves.
Pluck as many maroon planets before the eye of God catches us. He will scald us.
Chastise bold avarice. But how can we turn away from that golden taste? Delight
young bodies, feverous and candied. Sumptuous plump bellies. Curved and
dreaming with our heads in the tree.