Apples

photo: Ivan Makarov via Flickr

Here's a poem I wrote as I approached my 40th bday this summer. I just uncovered it on my laptop's desktop:

When I was young
my skin was taut.
My flesh was crisp
and full of come
and the air smelled of fucking
Apples.

I pulled against the stem and felt it give
and for a moment gravity was on my side
And then it wasn't.

Better this than this :)