Desert Vampire

The sky was impeccably clear along the hot highway. Perhaps it was the mirage puddles in the street that stirred in me a longing for a pair of aviator sunglasses so that I might join the reflection party of road puddles and sky. A morning of intense running and yoga brewed a powerful thirst which I felt, not only in the back of my throat and in my eyes (where I normally feel thirst cravings when I am parched) but also in my cells. I drank some water, which only just barely returned me to buoyancy, taking me from desert sun to kiddie pool splashing. I needed the ocean, or at least a pool with a less concentrated urine content.

I swung into the co-op. I was greeted at the door by the most beautiful, most seductive looking, deep red cherries. Their very color was that of life blood. They promised to transfuse my soul back to vibrancy. I surrendered my will to their flirtation, skirting my eyes from their price tag. A sign on their crate read "local". It was a nice bonus, but in this particular moment I didn't care to know. I could feel their quality in their aroma. I thought only of devouring them.

Remembering my monstrous thirst, I floated over to the drink section. I didn't want fizzy, syrupy, or overly sweet. Nothing with Stevia, Splenda, or ginger. No super antioxidant vita shake with buzz energy or ginseng. Nothing too orange or the color of green sea sludge with Spirulina and whey boost. I craved something natural, truly natural, not something tailored together to resemble modern cultural preferences like the "natural" varieties of TV dinners.

I noticed a box of coconut water.

Interesting.

After making my purchases, I poked the straw through the little hole in the lid of the coconut water, which instantly reminded me of being a little kid drinking a juice box. I sucked the liquid up through the straw and registered it's flavor just as the sun dove from the edge of the awning to my cheeks, nose and shoulders as I walked out of the store. It tasted exactly like tapping a coconut. Refreshing in every way.

The streets felt cooler as a wove through downtown deflecting gazes with my sunglasses on. My teeth were bright red from the cherries, giving me the appearance of a recently fed vampire. Eating cherries while driving is a bit like smoking while driving, and I took the time to wonder why we choose to glamorize smoking, and not cherry eating. They both bring attention to ones hands and mouth, they both stain a persons hands and teeth, and they both deliver a pleasurable break from reality. There is even an element of danger in eating cherries, as a person could easily choke on the pit!

I amused myself by imagining teenagers carrying around packages of Bing reds instead of Marlboroughs, and cruising through the streets writing in their heads the fantasies about their seductive, dangerous, independent, and glamorous selves while "ashing" their stems out of the window and bleeding juice from the corners of their mouths.

I felt thoroughly amused and quenched of thirst by the time I got back to my apartment. Another wonderful day.