Apples

Ripened, nuclear tinged green
Or a burnished cherry red as bright as day
It's squat, a fat toad in your hands

It's blushing now
Shining as you buff and bruise the skin
Against the sand of denim

Mouth watering
But it will go rotten in the end
Decay has desires

Eaten inside out
By a touch of sewer-water brown
That creeps along, a sloth

When the sores appear
To spread over the slow dissolution of flesh
Time is ticking out

Girls and apples
When struck by neglect
(baby in a corner)
They both go sour