We Are Fruit People. Poem by Zoe Nyght

love-hungry teenage boy ripe
for the fruit of the world, yearning
for a taste of satisfaction, you buckle your
knees at every passing vine and fall to the earth
wrapped in those enticing delicacies borne of fantasy:
of a hunger sated, of a belly full: sweet nectarine dreams
elaborate delicious and aromatic. they promise tenderness and
shy smiles; silly boy turns a wayward head at every budding leaf.
then empty-handed and blistering in the heat of the sun, eventually,
I know, they’ll drag you to my door, where you will be rejuvenated in
the freshness of my springtime hut and it will smell of dripping
fruit, and nectar, and us, here. we will sit around a wooden
table, sharing stories. but soon, I know, you’ll ask for
peaches, sweetly, eyes endearing, because that’s
what you crave, and all I will be able to offer
to you are my own, slightly bruised,
nectarine dreams.