MEDITATION ON GRATITUDE FOR AN ORANGE Sam Nelson
The skin is tough and cannot be opened with my hands. I search my desk for a pen or a knife– to rip, to tear, to peel away the flamboyant rhinoceros hide of this glowing orb of energy. My knife undoes a hidden seam to reveal sticky beads of juice, and I touch them with my tongue to test their sweetness. “I've had better.” I say to an orange that has scaled mountains and crossed deserts to sit in my ungrateful hand.
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