Ode To Blueberries
Now that it's September, I want to thank blueberries. I want to thank peaches, cantaloupes, cherry tomatoes and corn on the cob. All summer long while we griped about the Republicans, you were lying there in baskets, blue eyes silently watching, blinking back tears. Some of you were whole crimson sunsets in my hand. I'm not sure what antioxidants are, but thank you: I know that you were full of them. I loved your fuzz, buxom peach, your sass, blackberry. I loved your smile, honeydew, halved and split as we slobbered together. Local strawberry, just one of you gushing on my tongue was almost too much to bear. Next summer you could do a better job of staying under three dollars a pint; otherwise, no complaint. How erotic you are, plum, lounging in a sunbeam, your crimson still-life, your sweated drops of fever! You should be ashamed the way your waves imploded on the beaches of my mouth: well, it was a scene! But thank you. I also want to thank some of you flowers: begonia,...
