Like mint and basil swirled debris.

Like the smell of freshly mowed grass

but sharper.

Like a spritz of lime

that’s landed on iceberg lettuce.

Like parsley and ginger’s love child.

Like that chest feeling

when you’re tired from the summer sun.

Like my tastebuds are singing karaoke.

Or I guess if I were you,

like a curse word at grandma’s house.