Groggily leering at a bowl of avocadoes
each labeled individually
of their own accord—
speaking through
my morning haze,
“Why do they label each fruit
individually? What are you
supposed to do with the stickers?”
I think drearily
of apple stickers
stuck upon counters,
walls, wherever,
and how my wife
thought it stupid
that they would let
their children defile
the habitation that now
temporarily became ours.
“How do you know it was
the kids?” I asked,
thinking of how I’d never
seen our children eat apples without first
being sliced individually.
And Ron has never even
taken time to remove the sticker,
just biting into the apple
devouring peel, paper and all.
But that’s apples
and these are avocadoes
and you never eat the peel
of an avocado
so it can just compost itself
away as if being swallowed
whole by a man
who is indifferent to stickers
of red delicious gala
golden delicious cosmic crisp
jonathan counter top
chair floor avocado
worms grass beetles…
And my morning thoughts
slip drearily into breakfast
and apple slices and
avocado toast and compost
and men and women and children
and furniture and
aren’t those avocadoes arranged beautifully?
March 2021
About This Poem
This is a light attempt at free verse and what morning thoughts are like with an arrangement of avocadoes. The reality of the thinking process of this poem would occur in the time it takes to read the last line but it contains all of the random thoughts that may easily be included in the admiration of a display. Arranging thoughts on a page is definitely patterned as well, but if you do it right, it can illustrate much more than one simple thought. This is my attempt at that. The photo is of a display at a farmers stand in Yakima, Washington. Funny, but I couldn't find any pictures of avocadoes in a bowl. How they escape my photographic mind but not my poetic mind is a mystery... Still, if you focus, you will see the avocadoes arranged in the middle of the tomatoes.
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