DEAR WATERMELON SEED
Thanks for coming to hang out in my stomach last night.
You are so clever,
the way you snuck into my mouth like that.
So clever, aren’t you!
One of the reasons I fell for you, to boot.
I could have sworn your friend Watermelon
was gonna want you to stay but
I’m glad you came over anyway,
despite how it ended between us.
You are so small and round in person,
much darker than you look in the pictures.
Much more of a “fun guy” than the tabloids
at Whole Foods have you chalked up to be.
Might I add—
a chip off the old farming block.
Seed, I want you to know that
pooping you out wasn’t intentional
nor malicious. Please don’t cry little juice tears,
or get lost in the crevice of some woman’s teeth,
or drown yourself in the disgrace of a mixed fruit bowl.
Don’t let your life go down the drain.
Please don’t cry the fertility out of you.
I never meant for hurt, this I swear.
There were rumors that you were trying to “harvest” a child
in my small intestine, which led to
my colon’s hasty (and might I add, a tad rude) removal
of your little body cavity from within me.
Colon is an old bird, more jaded than an Indian headdress—
this was to be expected.
Though you are long gone,
I will always remember you.
If I left your heart with bad feelings
I hope you don’t harbor them there,
just dock them for repair.
The memories are ultimately where it’s at.
Like the time you got lodged in my tonsils and
tongue spent two days trying to pull you out.
(I still laugh about it to this day).
The time I burped after that ginger ale drinking competition,
and you popped right back up in my mouth yelling, “Tally ho!”
Damn near gave me a heart attack.
The time I ate those “bad blood” cousins, the cashews?
You told me you needed space.
I gave you a rocket ship and a match.
The time I found out that a man hated me
just a little less than he hated himself,
my heart went out and crushed herself.
Shriveled up into a prune
like a deflated, ripped balloon.
You sunk down there right next to her
and held her for hours
while she cried the kind of red stuff
that reminded veins why they are blue behind closed pores.
Little prune heart found solace in you.
Chewed up and spit out, you knew fruit very well.
I hope you have found a nice mound somewhere.
Perhaps even a cow pile.
(I heard those help you grow twice as fast,
especially the ones way out in California.)
I hope you fall in love with a beautiful watering can.
I hope your children are as delicious and healthy
as you are.
Tell them about me.
About the good times.
About how I spilled my guts
and shared my insides
with the only thing
that ever dared to grow with me.
Your soilmate,
Rose