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Jan 2010
Everyday I see oranges on trees
Bright, juicy and
I think anxiously of the apple rotting slowly
On my kitchen counter
I'd rather eat it.

I think of peeling the banana
Riding in my car
And while it fills my stomach
And it could be called breakfast
I want my apple.

And the mango offered in a cafe
In the middle of the rainforest
On the side of a volcano tastes like heaven,
Grainy, juicy, ripe
And I think of my decaying apple.

My apple, my obsession
All I want now
Dangerous though it is
And I think of Eve and wonder
Does every woman have her apple?
Written by
Jill Harris
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