He asked me then
as we stared at the strawberries
lit in the fluorescent grocery store lighting
adjacent in their plastic coffins
red and ripe
clearly evesdropping
“do you love me?”
I hadn’t ever thought about it before
but I guess I did.
“but are you in love with me?”
their green stems were a reminder of home
their severed ends a scar of the violence they endured
yellow seeds clinged to their polished red bodies
the small taste of bitter to remind you,
nothing can be that sweet all the time
I cocked my head to one side
They had me captivated
I wanted their taste
Their raw delicious flesh
$5.99?
Damn. Too much.
“No.
I’m not in love with you.”
Oh, thank God.
The blueberries are on sale.