Generational Banana Love
My love affair with bananas
must have started shortly after my birth
because it seems to be a generational thing.
My daughter spit out every Gerber-strained
fruit that was not bananas, just like
Grandma did in the end.
They dribbled down her chin but I was not
embarrassed. The only time bananas embarrassed me
was in my high school sex ed class
when Mrs. Wiley showed us things
I was certain my mother
didn’t want me to know.
She never would have looked
at a banana the same. I never looked
at Mrs. Wiley the same, that’s for sure.
Bananas go from generation to generation,
except when you use them
and generations just... die.
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