The Banana
I heard it was a bean.
And that makes me wonder if other beans are fruit.
I thought they were seeds.
And I’m writing this longhand
so don’t have quick access to the google
but this is about bananas anyway.
This isn’t about search engines, or beanology, or fine wine, or third-wave feminism, or universal health care, or greenwashing your product to make a buck, or being so far in debt you won’t even begin to pay on your principal for another ten years, or the still-reverberating repercussion of that abortion you shared as a teenager and the way you now stalk your never-was on facebook by creating fake profiles of beautiful people, friending, flirting for a bit, and then de-friending in an effort to somehow exact retribution for an event you were both too young and uninformed about to be responsible for but the cut still exists within a particular remembered axis of the space-time matrix and god damn it still hurts like a mother fucker.
No.
This is about a banana.
Still slightly green and firm.
One of four in the bunch
Which I have eaten
And which you were probably saving for breakfast
Forgive me
It wasn’t that delicious, so lifeless and dull.