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.