I bought two mangoes 'cause you said
you never sucked a mango and
I think of you while sucking one
last night, cool, stringy, & orange.
The other juicy mango won't
last till Thursday. No, not with this
weather. But you said Thursday we
meet. For dinner? No, lunch. I don't
tell you about the mango o-
ver-riping, hope you could figure
it out for yourself, I just go
on about how I want to see
you, don't want to take this slow. I
maybe should have told you about
the mango. Thursday, three hot piti-
ful days from now. A mango has
one big pit. Just lunch, you said. Lunch.

(This asinine poem was previously published in New Digressions.)