The thumb and the index finger fumble;

Lacerating the leathery

Skin- it is a vivid orange soda pop reminiscent

Hue, with promise.

I am surprised at the street vendor's reassurances

When I am confronted by the innards. Plump seeds,

Limp, anaemic, bitter flesh.

Perhaps the weight of weeks has wasted away the

Possibilities or perhaps- the unthinkable-

I longed for the nonexistent.