Globed
Perfectly round
Apart from a **** on top from
when it was part of a tree.



Ten year old me
Dunks flesh into flesh.
Sugary smells
as fruity balloons burst within,
Spraying juice in all directions.

I separate the segments,
No call to look at what I'm doing
Pulling at the thin membrane
gluing crescent to crescent.

And he looks at me
Cranes the neck he doesn't have
In a questionmark shape.

Little me starts back
in wonder.
A White and wriggling worm
Has won his plunder.