Give me the savor
of those summer peaches,
the ones Mom crossed two lanes for
in rush hour, swerving
into Hartman’s produce stand
which appeared every June
transforming the gravel lot
at Bailey and State
into a succulent mirage.
Orbits so full
they filled my entire hand
like a softball.
Frankie and I scrabbled
into the brown paper bag
right there in the dusty lot.
Our mouths so swamped
with pleasure, it curled our toes
in our sneakers.
We couldn’t even look
at each other as we slurped
and gulped the wet pulp.
The best we could manage
was a startled moan when she called us
to get on back in the car.
I love this!
“We couldn’t even look
at each other as we slurped
and gulped the wet pulp.”
A homily, dedicated to _peach, peach, peach_!
Can’t seem to get my hands on one, so this is even more rare and wonderful!
A strong slurpy sweet taste!
Love “mouths so swamped with pleasure.” I feel like I should play Allman Bros. Eat a Peach.
I am, because of you! Great way to “be there”!
850143 340346They call it the self-censor, simply because you are too self-conscious of your writing, too judgmental. 325773
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