a little Nutty

Coconuts, mmmm. They stink, oh they do!
They reek, they smell: distinctive unforgettable strong.
Once you’ve had a taste of coconut you don’t need a label on a jar to tell you what’s inside;
just open it and breathe in that odor that shouts out declares asserts itself,

Do you know coconut?

Now what’s this bottle over here? Open it up.
Hmm, it’s odorless, has no fragrance, no perfume, denuded.
Take a taste of the stuff, eh! bland; but wait the label says coconut oil?
Coconut oil? Really? Ah, it’s been refined . . . .
rendered processed deodorized tasteless; stinks all gone, nutrition gone too, everything that makes it coconut, defines coconut: Gone, Long GONE!
Is it even coconut oil anymore? This pretender. It masquerades, pretends, preens, and glories in its refinement,
it has a long way to go to find the coconut in itself.
It’s forgotten how to shout, an illusion of what it once was, artificial in its beautifully packaged bottle: Refined.

You keep your adulteration, I say, I AM COCONUT!!!
And I stink. I am strong, a tough nut to crack. Pure coconut.
Greasy. Raw. Inside me is an ocean of amniotic fluid, Life giving, Warm, Vital, Nourishing.

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