oranges for boys

You asked me how to peel an orange

I laughed at you - I could’ve sworn you said you’d been in love before.

You rolled your eyes and handed it to me

And even though I hate when soft white inside of the peel sticks under my nails 

I did it anyway.

At first I thought that you wanted me to peel the orange

But when you reached your arm across the table and the fruit rolled off the palm of your hand

It landed firmly in mine - so solidly in fact, I thought maybe it was not an orange at all.

I decided then that you might be Midas and at some point I should prepare myself for the inevitable 

Because if I let you touch me you might turn me into something I’m not

And maybe that was what you really wanted - if I peeled the orange for you, maybe the soft white insides would stick under my nails forever and you could keep me as a statue in your garden

Maybe you just wanted me to peel it for you so that your hands would stay clean

And that’s okay too because

From where I stand now, I think I would peel every orange for you if I could

I would peel off my own layers if you didn’t want to and I would show you the soft white inside and I know you probably don’t want that under your nails either so I’ll do it for you.

If I could peel the sun and give you slices I would 

Because I want you to have it

If I could climb the tallest orange tree (or maybe your apartment building) and reach up and stretch my body and pluck the sun down and peel it gently, I would. 

I would feed you juicy bites while you’re doing something else and bits of sunshine would escape and splatter across my room, across my silk pillow cases and my journal and some would fall behind my bed.

I don’t like my room messy but I’ll clean them up later.

Oranges are designed for sharing

If I took a physics class (or maybe biology) I would think about this more: 

Why oranges are made like that, premade with slices and sections and wedges and pieces.

And the soft white inside of the peel.

Was it evolution that designed them this way? 

Did evolution want me to share my oranges with you? 

I’m sure I could look this up, why oranges are begging to be shared

Begging on their hands and knees, pleading, crying orange juice tears

But understanding it might ruin it 

and I’m sick of ruining things

People keep saying that humans are ruining the earth.

I’m worried that there's nothing I can do and, before I know it,

There won’t be any oranges left for me to peel for you.

And if there’s no oranges for me to peel for you - what do you and I have?

I hope I’m dead by then