Apple Man

I don't want to lose you -- Apple Man, someone who

I vaguely knew. All I can recall now is

the distinct, hurried sound of fruits taken out from a paper

bag, a certain light-shift from the window to the door.

What it illuminates is a picture I have of you. You are

staring at a tombstone, anonymous to me, the sunshine glaring on

your bald spot. Fat, with your shirt sticking to the sides of your

belly-- not at all the type who would pick the juiciest fruits for

a child who was not even his. Inserted between random pages

of an old album is a picture of me, surrounded by the

reddest apples in the world; my expression comical, caught

in midbite.The memory stops there in

that small canvas, not fit for any occasion. You see,

my childhood is seeping out of me, forming gentle puddles wherever

I go. Remembering you is no longer easy, has not been

translated into a happier morning.

I do not want to lose you -- Apple Man, the void in the center

of all things.