i've dreamt up a dichotomy
where moonlight intersects my room;
one beam pins up vestigial art
to answer envy's gloom
the other paints a stranger scene:
an avocado, lone in frame
they laugh "oh, light, she plays so coy"
she emboldens the moon's game
as that rock glides on its tracks
my avocado starts to die:
a lime green triste with muddy browns
once brushstrokes start to cry
i watch my spectral meal rot
paralysed; i come to know
light, so coy, she lied; as here,
avocado seeds won't grow