Poetry and Chocolate

There is something poetic about scrubbing that three inch piece of white concrete that acts as the support for all the warmers and heaters for the dining room. I suppose it is in the fact that when you are scrubbing it your face is only a few inches away peering intently at each and every spot which you intend to remove. You begin to admire your work. There is something gratifying about seeing that smear of dirt slowly come off, and then you look up to see strange faces looking down at you as if you were some alien just dropped out of space. But my mind was stuck on poetry. It could have been the fact that I napped during each break, thus remaining in a happy state of warm sleepiness throughout the day. It was rather surreal.
We've started putting out this chocolate sauce, for lack of better words. But this is no ordinary chocolate sauce. It's actually in some other language but I think it's called Nutella in the US. Well I've been using it as a spread. I suppose I was savoring the sheer happiness of being alone at a table and even though people were talking all around me, it was like I had found my own silence and I was secretly trying to close my eyes with every bite without being conspicuous. And I was trying to describe that heavenly taste in my head. The way it was smooth and rich, but it didn't taste like chocolate fudge and the way the taste seemed to get better with each bite until it filled all my senses. And I could smell and feel and taste and see and touch that heavenly chocolate. And the only word I could think of to describe it was poetry. So today I decided that if poetry had a taste it would taste like chocolate. I suppose it's a rather romantic thought in a way, or absolutely ridiculous if you're like my brother.