bananacue

Cheap, common, delicious.

I'd find you along Aurora
Peddled by old ladies
In the darkness between watch repair stores
And cheap stamp-makers.

Your fried, golden-brown skin
Breaks on my lips
As I bite.
But you're of old stock banana
Overripe, even.

You're beat-up
By the days and nights,
Mushy with the promises
Of old love songs
And princes that will carry you away.

Somehow, the heat
Made you tougher than you were
Firmness of your flesh.

And you're sweet, sugar
Like your name.

I withdraw the stick,
After it has so (un)ceremoniously
Pierced your flesh.