Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino
All rights reserved.
It is the heart of a volcano, broiling and churning and angry. It is the lovers’ passions, secrets if the skin spoken late at night by only the light of the moon. It is rage, pure and poisonous, with its quicksilver tongues, balloon face, and veined, shining eyes. It is the wine pressed and fresh from the vineyard, paired with a side of steak or a heart wrenching romantic comedy. It is Irish and Scottish hair, bouncing with banana curls and flying in the highland wind. It is the maraschino cherry atop an ice cream sundae at the start of summer.