Pink lemonade sends an invite to my organs, asking to dance together.
She first jumps on my teeth with her rich bubbles, but my teeth chatter.
They are afraid that carbonic acid might break their bonds.
And she goes down.
A “bouncing” feeling hits my throat.
Before she can make the official offer,
“Keeping going! Keep going down,” my throat yells at her.
…
Finally, she reaches the stomach, who welcomes her warmly.
“Let’s dance! Let’s dance!”My stomach is happy - very clearly.
“I want to but I can’t anymore. says the lemonade,
Arriving here costs all my strength.”
“Maybe next time?”
“Next time, I promise.”