Photo by Luca Maffeis on Unsplash
It’s been a while since I stood in the shade
of a peach tree, a while since I ate
a peach and pared an apple
into slices. You might think I hate fruit
or at least have an aversion to it.
Cantaloupe isn’t high on my list of edibles.
I’d rather a ham & Swiss on rye.
I like rye bread, and weeping willows,
especially on a riverbank. Apple trees,
plums, spruces, elms and oaks
are friends, though I’ve no special tree.
Aspens I came to late in life, also redwoods.
Of the fruit bearers plums are my favorite.
The feel of a plum, the burst of juice
when I bite into a plum are good things.
The bad is sticky hands when juice dries,
but not nearly as bad as a wasp’s sting
on a finger. One night, still light outside,
a wasp and I ran into each other
in a park with lots of elms, a stone throw
from my apartment in an old brick building.
The Pirates were winning the World Series
and, shortly after, a thief jacked my mailbox
and stole my federal tax return.
I wrote to a senator and got compensated.
I wasn’t eating much fruit at the time,
even though I was waiting tables at Valli
Pizza, open twenty-four hours a day.
I liked the tips, my apartment and the city.
There were more trees there than here.
Peter Mladinic’s fourth book of poems, Knives on a Table is available from Better Than Starbucks Publications. An animal rights advocate, he lives in Hobbs, New Mexico, USA. https://petermladinic.com
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