would you give up
the stretch of a cinnamon roll,
the smoothness of pudding,
the crunch of a cucumber,

if you never had to feel
a terrible texture again?

what would I give to return
to that minute and not brush
the burnt garlic off my hands
with a back and forth motion?

you ask, but I am gone, I am lost
in the haunting memory
that shadows me every time
I brush crumbs off my hands