My lover and I once dove into decadence -- together breathing the life of the country. We dangled our feet in the stream, we supped upon morsels, humble to most, yet rich as we gazed, immersed in each other's eyes.
We swam in the sun, we basked 'neath the trees, we climbed the precarious ridge of eternity. We explored and conquered the uncertainties lurking beneath our modest dressings. We had only Grey Poupon.
Were that the day as golden as our flesh, touched as our senses by the spice nature offers. If only the dusk had been gentle and kind -- but love turns sour, as does Grey Poupon when exposed to the perspiring heat of the sun. And now my heart hardens as my skin did that day -- the heart yearns for passion, yet the body still sickens and the image, obscured by time and emotion, burns with the flovor of Grey Poupon.
Sincerly,
Eliot Cocaine
(Response)