Thursday, December 4, 2008

Pulp and Circumstance

Summer arrived. What
I wanted more
than anything was
lemonade. Hands grinding
halved fruit onto
that vaulted star,
I wrung a 
cup for you
before your flight.
Left behind was
sticky pulp, stink
on my fingers,
and rind beneath
my nails. Mixing
unequal parts simple
syrup and citrus,
I added sugar
to taste, desperate
not to erase
your bitter tang.

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