Buying Fruit

BUYING FRUIT A hot day at her market fruit stall Overflowing with her peaches, cherries, plums. “What would you like?” she invited, Wearing one of those low-cut dresses Where everything moves independently Like several simultaneous circus jugglers. Oh! The rounded succulent orbs Of the peaches, and such a shape and color Only dreamed about on wet nights! Those half-hidden plum curves Invited my hands to touch and squeeze, Begged my mouth to press my lips to them, Exhorted my tongue and teeth to gently nibble. She said nothing, but her woman’s sense Knew my desires…. “Two of those big peaches, please,” I said. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .