Transgression

The cashew temptation is casual and sandy. Under the cashew  you  lie down on the hot river sand and let the sand singe your skin .Grains of sand that enter  your holes where you dislodge by a blow of your breath. Blowing does not bring babies. But the sands are everywhere, They cannot be dislodged in some nooks. 

Babies are afraid of your breath when you blow into their eyes. They shrink away from you ,from your talcum in the rolls of their baby fat, like the sand that had singed your bare naked skin and entered your nine holes. . 

The cashews are yellow, fragrant and succulent. But when you eat them they catch your throat. The sand burns sin off your skin. The sun rains his heat on your love. You burn from its purity. 

But the ripe cashews catch at your throat later. And you cannot dislodge sand from the nooks.

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