Our Love Is Like An Overripe Tomato

Our Love is like an overripe tomato;

Willing and
Red and
Hard soft skin
That beckons
To resist-

Then you saw me
You cut me with a knife
With Ridges that get beneath
And loose my sloppy insides,

Which you keep together crudely
With your fingers
And arrange
In thick slices on a slab

To dry them out with
Paper towels
And snug them carefully
One upon the other

Between two slices of toast,

Before you moisten all again with lite Mayonnaise.

Our love is like an Overripe Tomato
That contains both our bloated loves inside it
Fertile
Waiting to burst
Or rot

Like when I'm Not with you
And I come
Apart at the seams