Cantaloupe

 

the gigantic planet that rolled into

   sight amidst countless comparables

   across the counter of the fruttivendolo

 

its decidedly contiguous net of crust

   a braille sun and water imprinted

   for the likes of those thirsty for flesh

 

sliced in half daybreaks

   pale orange life inside lime haloes

   scent promising sweetest flows

 

and suddenly a self-made bowl

   90% water 10% incomparable

   tender presence fanta soup

 

cantaloupe a set of syllables looping

   cantering in the air

   of this one and only world 

Lemon

when life gives you lemons

   your view is simply golden

   that was unfolding green

 

life when you lemons gives

   sours the fish to perfection

   and tangs the meringue

 

you when lemons life gives

   sing like a gin and tonic

   something super sonic

 

gives life lemons when you

   think about it the pip

   plopped in pots for new surprises

 

lemons you life gives when

   their scent’s a sign god-sent

   tingling like lemonade

Pear

in ‘fruit in a chinese bowl’

   hockney’s pear is flat green

   easily mistaken for an avocado

 

to eat a pear for free

   knowing it tastes three million

   english pounds is our own business

 

banksy has a pair of nostrils

   for detecting things on the nose

   but is not known for painting pears

 

while arcimboldo’s noisy fruttivendolo

   has a pear for a nose

   and a face we could munch for lunch

 

and nothing much touches

   the most famous pears of cézanne

   square there teasing our primal instincts

 

 

i.m. David Hockney 11th of June 2026