ODE TO GRAPEFRUIT                                                       

Your happy tongue a fat

planet eternally orbiting

the yellow-orange sun

of sweet luscious grapefruit.

 

In love with its plump flesh,

how its ode-orous radiance

enters eager mouth’s cool cave

 

where you speak a lusty grinning

silence, a born-again tongue

your first language,

 

loose and fresh, new

as a white dwarf star. 

 

And Juicy!

 

Breakfast astronaut, strip off

your space-suit, free-float naked

in your capsule, burst into pleasure’s

sweet music, this citrusy tang

 

where gravity’s absence titillates your

taste buds, lightens all flesh

and linguistic pretensions as it hijacks 

this rocket ship towards an untraveled

 

atmosphere,  seduces quite hasty

like tasty hot sex in the shower

at home far down on earth.

 

Your face fiercely amorous, eyes

sparkle with inhibitions unraveling,

as flying soars further, rivers of juice

flood  across your chin greedily.

This hunger for new worlds to traverse

fulfilled by what flows in-between your

zillions of taste buds, one orb of fruit

 

and by these tiny oval seeds, containers

of cells to flower in secret your blooming

bright brain, explode galaxies of big-bang desires.

 

Oh astronaut!  Let yourself languish and linger,

be astonished inside grapefruit's

succulent pinkness, this stellar ripening

 

that’s nourished and grabbed you

star-struck for good.

 

Taste its foreign fecundity,

 

Savor its puckering liminality,

 

Explore its other-worldly carnality,

 

Hear its tingling full-flavored poetry.

 

Yes my dear breakfast devotees:

You wild devourers

of these fresh tangy softballs

fallen like home runs from heaven above

 

simmer and sizzle

sing if inspired

in this obscene solar system

 

inside your private Sputnik of love

while your requited cravings

beguiled, beguiling

 

you crooning and raving,

a glad captive of your fruity

 lunatic’s mooning,

 

ecstatically sticky

all morning long!