a mango memoir
I ate a mango today.

I ate it's skin, tough as leather,
and then comes the soft orange-yellow fruit.
You taste and savour,
juicy,
yet so whole,
as though swalloing another world.
Then comes the hard, rough touch on the
tongue,
that stays,
and may or may not be
nice.

I once ate a mango with Joanna Ghazeleh
on my garage roof
at dusk.
Bats, wind, trees, two mangos, Joanna, and I.

And I once sang "My Heart Will Go On"
on that roof
with Sara Nassar.

That is my Mango Memoir.
balancing on the bathroom window ledge

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