Cutting Fruit

Knives slipping through the fruit. We
can barely keep ourselves,
Sweet juice, pineapple, that one
At the store all alone, yellow to the
Core, my wife sweet on me,
Because I was with her, picked
It with my nose and how soft it was
Felt like I was in the tropics, nowhere
Near the mountain’s, paradise in a
Bite, and honey dew, just like its name
Crisp, soft and white,  they will be
On skewers tomorrow, strawberries
And blueberries and cantaloupe,
A going away party, to dip in
That marshmallow cream, and make
Everybody happy, content
A hell of a lot more natural than
A birthday cake, a chunk to dance
Upon the tongue and make everyone
Feel like cotton candy at the state fair.

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