I wake up at 2:57AM because I am super thirsty. I debate if I want to just fall back asleep or get out of bed. Decided that water was important. So, I toss the comforter aside, ungracefully arise, descend the latter from my loft, where I sleep, down to the sink. Mouth to facet I take in my first sip and was shocked by the sweetness of its wetness.
The Utah not-so-good-water was so heavenly, unselfishly affectionate to my taste buds. Water for an instant turned to honey without the thickness without the wax without the necessity of logic without trying to pollinate my body. For an instant I could see with my mouth ,why embracing the flow of mountains and melted glaciers, why stones cannot stop the storm, why the electric want to thirst and internalize the cascade by the simplicity of a stainless steel handle that at my leverage in my domicile without the risk of effort, why I'd die without water, its delectable chemical anatomical charm, its sweetness, its being 'it' that cannot exist without transporting life into bliss, why thirst isn't effort, why astronomers believe in gravity and the impact of evaporating ice ages. I live in an ocean of dryness. And water is my passion.