excerpt from Paradise Pedestrian

Ode to fresh fruit…

Winter never looked so,
    Far, interred in memory.
On the last breath I know, the now.
A lovers time.
Tall trees speaking in pairs,
 A companion, a friend from the eons of light
Speaking to the waves, magic mists, blue-

Found these dreams,
Olive tinted, fluttering legs in the crush
Body glide, never tasted so good;

Fresh fruit…

Fruit on a tree in Brooklyn, Bed-Stuy