Synaesthesia – Day 27

A poem about taste. My sense of taste is not that good; I am prone to eating tubs of peanut butter, marmite on toast or whole jars of pickled onions (none great for making or keeping friends) but I wondered what I would think of others if saying their names triggered a taste, which is what sometimes happens when a person has synaesthesia :

The men I’ve known all left
a taste behind them –
sweet or sour or bitter.
I favour the name Steve –
it tastes of ginger biscuits.
John tasted of caramel, he
was a sweet snack to nibble on.
Shaun was distinctly fishy.
Paul was chicken vindaloo,
packing quite a wallop.

I liked the look of Robert,
but to say his name was like
sucking on a rusty nail –
until I shortened him to Bob
when he turned tasty
a flavour to savour:
egg fu yung –
chicken breast –
lemon zest –
and the rest.
I shall keep his name ever
on the tip of my tongue.

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