Fallen Apple

On Mission Street the








And watermelon are real


Apples don’t have buttons and screens

And switches and pushpads


They are just apples

With seeds

And skin and core


And there is a grocery

Store named in honor of

The apple called “Apple Grocery”


Where unadulterated, unbitten

Apples lie in the crate’s cradle

Before seeing the sun

Of Mission Street


And a short

Distance from the market

A woman sits at the bus stop


I get off the #16 bus

Through the rear door

And come upon her face

In the apple moist air


She must have been

In her late 60’s, early



She held a straw hat,

Shielding her head

From the sun


She was beautiful

And I imagined her

As a young woman


The red life in her lips

Sung out as her eyes

Looked through a pair

Of sunglasses


I stood across the street

Knowing that at one

Time she could have stopped

The entire street, me included


And she knew what I was

Thinking and she knew

That I knew that she

Knew and we kept it to



And the apples




© 2013 Tony Robles






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