On the Subject of Falafel

and my first attempts to become a poet. Yes I'm taking a creative writing class this semester. Yes it's kicking my incredibly lazy trash. Please be kind.

The Perfect Bite of Falafel
Caroline Macfarlane

should be your best first kiss. Your dish arrives -- Christmas before you. Your tongue will feel colors trace and tantalize, spicy reds, cool whites, refreshing greens, sharp purples; displayed like a Kandinsky for you to possess. You should eat, with your eyes, the full gambit of tastes before a fleck of flavor enters your mouth. Appreciate the ways saffron and cinnamon kiss the tops of chickpeas and pita, watch cilantro mediate between yogurt and garlic as it cascades down over thick chunks of deep fried falafel, observe the tender tomatoes protected from a wall of hummus by shreds of slightly peppery dark plum cabbage. You’re in the place between your heart and stomach where you yearn to stop looking and start chewing, but the longer you observe, the more temptation you resist, the more surreal that perfect bite becomes. Allow your nose no more than three whiffs to catch sweet, meaty, and savory and then at long last draw the first bite. Your mind goes dark and your vision seems to stop and you’ve forgotten everything but your name.