you’ll find it on the back streets

on hot and humid nights.

you’ll smell the night is tinged

with something sacrine bleeding

melancholic.

remembering nights when me and my guy
would be altered and get nostalgic;

remembering times when decaying crusts of summers browning bronzed you;

ask me how the back end of his thigh tastes...

fluorescent?

what about the inside of his neckline...

phosphorescent?

full gut but somehow craving,

so sweet but somehow rotting,

in the halogen lights,

what is this smell?

     : magnolia

I've bitten into so many;
Waxed and sugary
From the sharp wild strawberry
To the bus stops dry thorny sloes
The over and the under ripe
Even as I attend to the flesh
I can predict what my tounge will tell
It's full of seeds
The texture is too wierd
This one is sacrine sweet
These have a fishy smell
You'll need a special knife for that
And you aut to cook this one just right
That one is poison
Remember to wash your hands
pickings are slim
Rove and scan
Pick and grow
I didn't notice you there
Standing in plain sight
Couldn't see the wood for the cherry tree
The dark subtle fruits
That you made easy to reach
Simple to consume
I didn't even have to climb
It was comforting
I can't even describe the texture or taste
You are just what I want
To linger in the boroughs of you