It was a sultry afternoon,
As hot as it could get.
She would be burnt to cinders
If she weren't drenched in sweat.
More out of need than want she bought
A carton of fresh juice-
Icy-chilled, with fruity tang;
She put it to good use
By drinking it with all her zest.
She sucked upon the straw
And felt the cold juice splash within
Her stomach, throat and jaw.
Drops of water glittered
On the carton's minty green,
Against the light the straw glowed
With a pink translucent sheen.
In unadulterated bliss
She sipped and sipped and sipped.
Though the heat raged on, to her
It seemed the sun had dipped.
Till suddenly she heard
A little gurgle, then a hiss.
Her drink was coming to an end,
So was her newfound bliss.
To reach the little bit left
In the carton's lowest quarters,
Involved a process wrong in many ways-
Too loud, for starters.
Upsetting every mind
That believed in the principle
Of discreet and refined,
Were other sins involved,
And add to those a frightening fact-
The level of attention
That her action would attract.
She thought and thought and thought
And thought, and thought and thought and THOUGHT.
Would she, should she, could she?
(Yes she COULD, but she OUGHT not.)
The remnants of her drink called out
To her seductively.
Finally, she realised that-
To act productively:
One must finish what one started.
So she closed her eyes and.. SLURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPED.
And since she'd gone so far she just
Went all the way and burped.
She got glances that were scathing,
But they were very few.
She got glances indulgently amused
But they were low in number too.
Most didn't even notice and
Went on their usual way.
While she sat and slowly savoured
The lingering flavour of her day.