TAMARIND
Potently deranged when I take the moment to taste
Tropically borne into the Southside
You tell me if I was a fruit I’d be a pear
Because they are juicy and quiet
Versatile vagrant, I didn’t ask for this mouth breathing
I don’t understand this range and have to Google it
I am more like an Asian pear
They grow vascular in Virginia
We are two tropic distinctions
For one, you like the summer
Like an equatorial emission
I feel inferior to you when you talk about being wetter
Hotter because of the sun directly overhead
You asked if I’ve ever made love to the sound
Of moaning Mona monkeys
No, I don’t think I have but i’ve fallen
In a grassy field where the cicadas vibrate
Maybe I’ve even shared a kiss or a half tongue
I find your strange city heat trop
Sounds like sensuality and skin
The sweat above my lip from walking
Away from the boy on the porch asking for me to walk by again
I am shy and you grow in the most sweltering position
Tamarindo, I gave you the name wrapped in a whisper
I wonder what you want to do
It is not like I am the most fragrant: a mist
A dew or skin, I am unsure which flavor a pear finds itself
But you want
me still in my uncertainty
My mild taste and mess that dribbles
And you, I stay solid in my bulbous and you
Still shapeshift and I wait for your new texture
Do you hear the crickets and the frogs tonight
Your catered lullaby
I’ve never been somewhere so alive
Virginia sleeps at 9:30 pm
No wonder the trees know
What they’re talking about as you glide there
And feed the valiance of your memory
And I inhale the aftermath and sharpen