Rows upon rows
Of shiny swollen mangoes
Dripping with the juice of life
Staining the dull knife with vitality.
She looks at me
Smiling
Chewing her paan
Asking me which one.
The pure gold one, please
Just yellow, no tint of parrot
No bronze blotches
I want a virgin
Just right
Cooked to the right ripeness
Saturday, November 25, 2006
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