Is This the New American Pie?
Yes, I know: Pie. Even more pie. I've already established that I like pie; most any pie, some more than others, obviously. It lingers in my senses, and I figure this could be a weak excuse to explore it further.
Pie has some grit about it. Don't you think? It can introduce itself as tart, crisp or seedy, or nearly meaty sometimes. And, it has a quality about it that offers up a second bite of its own-- it comes without invitation!
I mean, there are those before us who claim there are even birds in a pie. It goes against the grain of human nature to hold a warm pie in your hands; a sweet and perfect pie-- without it carrying at least a wing of risk. they're harbingers of awareness (or lack there of), and foresight (for example; none), are they not? Who hasn't had a pie in the face, at some point in their lives? Be honest now.
Well, let me be the first to own up to this little growth experience. A very recent one, at that. As such, I hear the blackbirds singing-- four and twenty of them, in fact. It's not a joyful tune, nor is it a congratulatory one. It mocks. It bites. Yes, pie is now on the table, folks. It's so fresh--it's hot to the touch. It must be mincemeat because I don't like the taste of this one. Never mind the aftertaste that's accompanied by a bad tune. You know the one... ' Song of Sixpence.'.
The unsavory memory is wiped nearly clean from my face. It had a slightly sweet taste about it, in that initial bite. Then, dark birds flew into my face.