Souffle from Far Away

Thank you, ELK, for this delicious prose poem.  Love it.  Feel extremely happy and lucky.

Souffle when you're in my mouth...  I think of figs, only chocolatier.  I thought for a second you weren't going to be fluffy but you're just like a velvet cloud.  You are not creme brulee, but when my spoon pierces your voluptuous top, I'm in heaven.  Now you're gone - the spoon sits lonely, cold.

Composed collectively 5.18.2011 at the 1824 Lamont reunion dinner, Washington DC