Aleutians

What memories are held in this strand of earth trailing across the ocean to the west? Anything far away, almost within reach and smelling of salt-the kind that crystallizes on your skin after a hard sweat. Snacks from pre-history, left over in nothing but an endless name, the sweetness of honey and aliens co-mingled. Done to a rare superficiality, the one that runs by your table and heaves some bloody meat on your plate without explanation...and the wonder lingers, just as repulsion and the unknown rises the gorge in your throat and casts off everything you were taught to expect from civilized company and place.