Slowly decaying in the sun
Passersby laugh and point
Like an overly ripened fruit
Sending my sweet rotting odor
Into the still air

I try to stop
this chemical process
but decomposition is inevitable
I am becoming soft
and the skin is beginning to curl

it burns
the sunshine
pushing like the knife that cuts
me into pieces
turning me into mush

the kind that ends up in the garbage
or on the sidewalk
a biodegradable heap of fiber and juice
soon to be squashed underfoot
or eaten by some feral animal

I am nothing but an orange
Round and repugnant