Strawberry Fingertips

The strawberry skins were a bit leathery. Too long in the fridge, but still sweet enough for a smoothie. My most recent addiction: blended fruit. Singular delicacies deconstructed, with a dash of cinnamon. Always served best in a wine glass; the one I bought for 50 cents at Value Village. As the last puddle of liquid blossom streams from the bottom, I encourage it into my goblet, sliding  two fingers along the inside of the glass pitcher to the lip. Then lick my fingers. Everytime. Everytime I slide my fingertips along that last moment. And then rinse the pitcher clean, swishing the water to catch strawberry seeds. Those seeds love to linger. They don't know there will be a next time.