Periwinkle

Periwinkle tastes like Swiss Cheese,
Airy as paper on my tongue,
Tangy as saltine crackers,
Crinkling and crackling on the roof of my mouth
As light as ice cold milk,
Sounds like it too,
Like my grandpa does, mizing the ice
Into his glass so that it is so freezing it bites at your throat
Jazz music in the elevator,
You remember the tune faintly, in the back of your memory
But in a second it can slip away
The wind and the crickets whisper its melody into my ears,
At touch as flimsy and light as cotton balls,
Feathery as bubbles drifting away to the moon,
Smells as washed as sunscreen lotion and perfume on your collarbone,
It is your collarbone, just as slick and as bony