The Music Lovers

by Destroyer


These Oranges Are Fibrous

Once the sticky sweet acid
juice sprayed while I was peeling a fresh
orange. I refused to be disheartened
for my hands soon lassoed nostrils with maverick
whiffs of citrus. While chewing, I was mindful to examine
the differences between what I savored,
the red-blooded dance done on the palate,
the curtsy of fully marketable flavor and the promise
of the elective essence of orange fruit
caught in the corners
of my memory. I smiled
because when wiping my lips
with my arm, I was charmed by this marauder
who was caught on suspicion
of impersonating an apple.