I remember bumping into you
At the grocery store,
Looking at produce.

And I was looking at pears
And you were looking at apples.

You called "Hey!"
And I suddenly wished
I had worn make-up that day.

But I couldn't ignore you,
So I said "Hi"
While butterflies in my stomach
Shone through my eyes.

We made small talk,
Talked about the weather,
My family,
Yours.

Then the conversation turned to apples,
And you asked my opinion.

I've never been good at short answers-
This time was no exception.

"Well,"
I said,
"I think apples can be a metaphor
For humans.
Some people are sweet
But if they go too long without love,
They turn rotten.
Others are sour
But that's what makes them
Sweet.
Some are loved as soon as they come in,
And others get passed around
And never picked,
Dropped and bruised,
And they are thrown away
Before they can go bad."

You nodded and listened,
Obviously paying thought.
"Do you have any others ideas on the merits
Of apples?"

I started to blush,
I wanted to bite my tongue,
But for some reason,
I offered,
"Only that I've heard-
I don't know if it's even true-
That in Ancient Greece
Throwing an apple at a woman
Was considered a marriage proposal."

You raised your eyebrows,
Chuckled,
And picked up an apple,
Looking at  it in your hand,
"Catch!"