The Fruit Cart

By Moshe Kessler

Walking down Broadway towards 96th
The fruit vendor and his cart come into view
Red persimmons housed in rows of green cardboard
Like miniature apartments stacked one atop another
Their flower scent wafting across the sidewalk
Calling to all who listen
To approach and be seduced
Greedy hands caressing them to see if they are ripe
Two plump beauties are chosen
Glistening with juice through their cracked skins
Secreted into the folds of a bag
To be revealed at tomorrow’s breakfast


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