Suddenly we find ourselves in love with fresh cilantro, both of us,and now we put it into everything— salsa, of course, but also into saladsand sides, and we find ourselves eating it all by itself and puttingthe fingers that have handled it, steadied it while we chopped it, upto our noses, breathing deep. The crispness of its leaf's becomean unexplained addiction, a mystery so citrusy, of scent or secret spice—and we are high on how it dawns in us anew each time we thinkto add it to the soup, and we're embarrassed by the way we feelbecause we both remember clearly another time, though not exactly when,in which we'd had a very pointed conversation and agreed we didn't like it in the least.
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