fruit

Banana yellow black freckled spots on the peel. Picked off the tree, grasped into my hands, take a bite of something juicy and sweet. Weighing two melons, grapes in the supermarket. Kumquats after lunch, apples and peaches and berries. Dripping juice down the front of the mouth. The vitamins and minerals and sun sugars rush into my bloodstream, tubing down red and blue veined railways, surfing on Main Street, goes into my skin and heart. My tongue is blue and red. An ice cream truck drives by and I don’t even flinch. Here is fine. Cornucopia of wealth and health. How could I ever die if I suck the coconut milk out with a straw wearing sunglasses in the sun? I will be hydrated. My body thanks me. Thank you to all the farmers and workers who work so hard, picking and growing this fruit all around the world. Where would we be without you? Whether at the Farmer’s Market or Super Market. Where would we be? Less off. Scavenging for for meat and grass. Out to pasture. Hydroponics or in the ground, let’s do what we can to make the fruit grow forever, but so that it will not harm us. Crunching down on apples, crisp.

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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