More Than What It Seems: Grapefruit Edition
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They are never just grapefruit, these pinky-golden dreams I find in my tree.
A grapefruit, recently of the tree in my back yard. The dirt washes away.
They are freshness.
They are zest.
They are balm.
They are fortification.
They are sunshine.
They are delicious.
Mmm, brains. Oh wait. No, that’s grapefruit too. Recently eviscerated from its peel.
Reader Comments (5)
Also, they are drunkenness. They are flesh. They are sting.
Also, all that shit applies to me, too. But with a little more "awesome" thrown in here and there.
;)
Amy, what did I do without you in my digital life? You need a poem too. "Awesome Amy" is too easy and yet so true.
You probably cried a lot before I was around. Mike had the same problem (or so I tell him, every chance I get. . . ).
Anyway:
I have a poem, actually. Written by my college roommate. hold on. . .
http://www.flickr.com/photos/aquaduck02/1343863753/in/set-72157601913177343
I did cry a lot. It's true.
Your poem is lovely. It just needs more AWESOME. Some awesome sauce, perhaps?