Sweet Mystery

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Sitting in a sidewalk café, warm, sun drenched an urban escapist's paradise. Mediterranean fare, fragrance of olives, garlic, and charred meat in the air… china and glass on table tops with white cloths, a puff of wind blowing ever so slightly lifting them, ruffling them, like the skirt hems of the women who pass by…each puff exposing some…

Hear the clitter, clatter of china against the cold steel forks as patrons stab at delectable morsels, hear the garbled restaurant noise gabbing, laughing, talking in earnest, lying, joking, pleading, swearing, mumbling with mouth full…all a symphony of color, sound, aroma and taste…

Wine, deep burgundy, rich bold body, yet delicate and complex much like Mystery flashing a smile, a glance, a nod, and a pout…indeed. Swirl the wine in my mouth, lingering on tongue, craftsmanship, nature and age…mingling…exciting expectation rolling down warmly into my chest.

Green is everywhere…bold and sublime…from the salad to the park next to the café…cool and inviting from an afternoon tanning. Poor fools in cars, blaring radios, stuck in traffic look over wanting to taste Mystery and I raise a glass to their futility…what would the world be if we all just stopped…to savor Mystery.

Mystery, what do you see with devilish, girlish, temptress intentions…

Mystery, where do you go...your beckoning glance, massaging touch on the back of my neck as you pull in tighter to brush your lips against my ear…

Mystery…I entice and excite you, feel my strength, makes you quiver, my well place hand on curve of your delicious derriere, you pause to catch your breath…you back away, not trying to get caught just yet…

I am in no rush, yes I like to savor, the little things, the touch and flavor, cause in the end there will be the tasting of suckling honey with ecstasy and like all things that are meant to be; why rush? Sweet Mystery…