the night i fell in love with a pear

it was sometime last fall, the night I fell in love with a pear.
i stood in juxtaposition
a city apartment not a sunny farm
dishwasher swishing ,not crickets chirping
thirsty from a diet-dictated workout not a day of work in the field
i suppose i should have reached for a giant plastic bottle of dayglo sweet sweat but instead it was a pear
i picked up.
sliced into four pieces
i had no idea that
the next few minutes i’d be fighting back tears while
biting through a skin just strong enough to hold a pure subtle sweet water and
with a texture that was soft-granular and reminiscent of the flesh itself.
i took a moment to consider the possibility that i’d finally crossed the line of true appreciation for fruit.
i’d been waiting for that day to come and let me tell you
i never could have predicted it’d be a pear.

fear itself

see my heart breaking, little baby in the beaten up car with north carolina plates, as your owners lift you out of your car seat to comfort you while they pull out of their pit stop parking spot to drive away. they roll up the windows, love, because it’s really hard to enjoy the sweet smell of the apple-flavored “black and milds” that they are smoking when the wind is blowing. they’ll stop yelling at you little one, a few miles down the road, because they’ve stocked up on liquor and once they get a buzz things will calm down. i’m sorry, sweetie, that i shook my head in such a disgusted and judgemental way at your family and friends when i saw all of this happening. but the man sitting next to you, babe, he gave me a really mean look. he meant to protect you, sweet child, and i guess he meant to scare me. scared i am, tiny one, for you.

life taxidermy

bus stop photo. another missed opportunity. it was hot and heavy outside and there was a line of people standing and leaning into the street, squinting to see the bus. someone was waiving themselves with a limp dollar bill in the hot sun. a perfect photo. i’ll have to carry the camera, dictate my thoughts, or try a little harder to remember the scenes. then again there’s always the option of just watching it, living it, instead of trying to kill it, stuff it, and put it on my wall. who am I showing it to, anyway?

delay

i have known him for twenty two years, the older man who attends my church with his wife. they both have always been so kind to me. how do they find me in that sea of churchgoers? i have missed many a service at church, hundreds even. but for all the times i’ve shown up i have not ever escaped without a hug from him. really tight hugs that over the years have managed to comfort me, then freak me out, then annoy me, and now they comfort me again. and lately every sunday i show up i notice that he is really getting older. and who’s to say that this sunday’s hug won’t be our last? because his skin is sinking and he’s lost weight and he doesn’t have it in him to find me each week anymore. so now i find him. because i’m no good with goodbyes.

company

a few days ago i saw something i’d never seen before. a helpful meter maid. she counseled someone in their car about how to park in a back-in only space. she teased a local business owner about having three tickets waiting for him on his car. she told another woman that if she had a ZONE 6 parking pass she didn’t have to pay to park.

i was taking this all in from my seat at a table in an outdoor cafe. my observations of the friendly meter maid were cut short by the chef of the restaurant. he began moving from table to table ripping off tablecloths that were unacceptable in appearance, asking for chairs to be replaced, telling the hostess to polish the metal fixtures at the door. she ran out in a little sun dress and flip flops holding a can of Sheila Shine metal polish in one hand, bunched up paper towels in the other hand. it was windy outside and she struggled with the spray. no matter where she stood, she was caught downwind of the toxic spray of Shelia Shine. a busboy came outside with some glass cleaner to polish windows. the secret service arrived to survey the premises. someone important was coming for a visit and the cafe needed to be bomb and terrorist free. and shiny.