Forbidden Fruit

Intercity mall, it was called. “Inter shitty” he said. That was then.

Now, this is the only place left free from the wind and the dead.

We used to steal, Jamie and I. Didn’t have to, just as a sort of a prize. Now I am here in need.

He would distract the clerks. I had deep pockets, and I did the quick finger kind of work.

The last time I saw him, it was here. I am alone, but not proud. I am famished.

“Hold the tomatoes”, I said.

They hadn’t. So I gave them to him instead.

I remember the grin on his lips as he kissed his fingertips.

“They are the worst” he laughed. But no, this, my friend, is worse.

We do strange things when we are afraid. We walk in the light, as though it’s here that we can hide. We crouch and crawl, as if in this way we might better flee. We whimper, in the wish to go unheard.

If I had a blanket I might cower beneath the dead hope of its cover.

I have none of these now. No light, no cover, but still I cower and crawl. I hear my own whimper, though that is not all that I can hear. I am not alone, within the empty memory of this empty mall. Even hope is gone.

With greed I reach for the tomato that grows from the unspeakable. Only his shoes are left.