that peach

you take the first bite

feel the skin tear and the hundred

small hairs love your tongue

as you eat

the water collects in your hand

you wipe that on

your shiny knees

the water collects at your chin

you wait for someone 

to kiss it off

the smell is like a friend's front porch

and the rain when the sun's out

then it dries there

it is sticky and you can't

pretend to be waiting

anymore

and you can start to cry 

now

now that you remember 

now that the pit is a naked cockroach

you didn't quite kill

its blood has gotten into 

your tablecloth

the pit

always bigger than you want it to be

if you were God

you'd make it smaller

so more fruit could fit around