Being a grown-up is not that enjoyable

light red spheres lived on the tops
of tall autumn trees, itching to tumble. blessed by sun, grew
juicy and ripe; carried hints of honey.
packed away in plastic or
rolled around the corner of my lunch
tray, next to the green beans and carton milk. a crunch,
as their crisp skin greeted my teeth,
hugs and kisses sent to my gut.

now live in the fluorescent-lit isle of the health food store i
cannot afford to shop at, in a heap of other reddish waxy globes
threatening to topple when touched. forgotten, rot on the kitchen
counter, next to the take out boxes. brown, bruised,
tossed into the trash along with the junk mail and
my youth.