Fruit
I notice your socks as you walk by,
the red lining with the black pattern.
I want to tell you I would have bought
those socks for you, if I had the chance.
That the two of us, sitting together
eating pineapple that was already cut
reminds me of when I was eight,
and I used to eat oranges and let the juice
fall from the sides of my mouth,
and my father would take a napkin and wipe
it off without saying a word.
It reminds me of how lonely and quiet
love is. How it does not need to do much
to be understood. And when you saved me
the last piece of the dripping pineapple
and put it in my mouth, you didn’t say anything.
It was the best conversation we ever had.
nina