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.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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