My favorite apple tree lives close to me. If I want an apple, I cross the street and search for the treat in the jungle thick mass of leaves. As with most things worthwhile, one has to uncover layers to find the essence.
The apples are snap-crunchy and dam-bursting juicy. A delicate tartness married well to the sweet flesh.
We had our first frost and her leaves are dropping. I think of a woman; a silk dress and that dress sliding down her body, resting around her ankles. All year i have waited for the sweetness of the apples. Every day I rode by and admired her. I was hungry.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
No comments:
Post a Comment