The Larceny of Citrus

plundered grapefruits
the size of fresh tits
wrapped their tart skins
onto my fat lips
which startled new neigh/
bors down the dead street
who hopped on second
hand cell phones,
screamed flabbergasted
“police!”, whilst you
read your Bible
from Luke to Matthew,
all those begats and begones,
creek water to fine wine
at weddings in Cana,
surely tweaked
stupefied
poured your
un-becoming,

somber as a be/
wigged barrister
or butt viewed
plumber you
quasi- comatose,
naked as citrus sin,
soaked smothered in
puffed up cloud-suds,
and dear ducky
floated drunk,
crushed on orange gin,
in the claw-foot bathtub
amongst the fruitbowl’s
plump sinned
lemony flesh
confessional
din,

cleaned up
raw scrubbed
we hailed
yellow cab
curbside,
shouting

“long live lime zest!”

hopped in
then onto
the drunken,
perhaps kidnapped,
peripatetic diabetic bride...