that tomato is a lesson of my ego

contemplating wrinkles and bruise

the one I told Sarah was delicious

because she picked it

from her vine

 

this fruit I brag I eat

like apples

with shirts of seed

and squirt to prove it

 

slow dying and desiccated

its bashful skin whispering

at the zucchini and squash

‘he ate tuna sandwiches all week

and never once sliced me,

he doesn’t care of what’s at home

if no one’s there to see it’