I meticulously devour
a dried apricot
-they call it fancy-
partitioning it with my front teeth
rolling the chunks over my tongue
hiding one away
in the crevice between tooth and cheek
The thick skin provides resistance
Sweet saliva fermentation
I chew and wonder how cold my destination will be
How long until the clouds give way
pouring wet droplets onto the hissing
defiant pavement
the smell I love
The apricot groans in disgust
as it slips along its journey
