Summer tastes like cold raindrops in mellow heat. Like guitar-string-metal
on my fingers. Summer tastes like a blade of grass between my teeth, like the
sweet glassy rim of a soda bottle. It tastes like cotton candy from a
fairground, French fries and fizzing root beer, overpriced snow cones and
fire-roasted hotdogs. Summer tastes like kissing freckled cheeks, it tastes
like daisies smell, tastes like chlorine and sea salt. It tastes earthy like
backroad dust and the warmth of a strawberry fresh from the vine. It tastes
like bonfire smoke and mango chap stick, like the effervescent thrill of
adventure.
I think bonfire smoke and fire-roasted hotdogs might be my favorite part of Summer. There is just something about them.
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