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?

****. Too much.



“No.


                                              I’m not in love with you.”




Oh, thank God.

The blueberries are on sale.