Apricot

This apricot is sour,

picked too soon and trucked

to the produce section of my grocery store

where I chose it

and brought it home to eat on a summer day,

hoping for the taste of flung pool spray on my skin.

I tried to enjoy my apricot

as I tried to love you

and I blamed myself for its failed sweetness,

but the real fault likes with the farmer

who picked this apricot before its time,

probably because he was thinking

about his wife, his farm, his children,

his mortgaged farm

and the market price of fruit

instead of my individual apricot,

just as you were thinking of your own life

and not my fragile heart.