“FRESH FRUIT! GET YOUR FRESH FRUIT!”

and i sought my poem  

        in the sweet 

                  orgasmic 

                      flavor 

                          of an orange. 

            its oozy juice  

                  dripped from my lips  

                      to stain the ground like ink;  

                    i glanced downward at the spot;  

                 there  

                        was my poem. 

                                              -David Harris