Slowly decaying in the sun

Passersby laugh and point

Like an overly ripened fruit

Sending my sweet rotting odor

Into the still air

 

I try to stop

this chemical process

but decomposition is inevitable

I am becoming soft

and the skin is beginning to curl

 

it burns

the sunshine

pushing like the knife that cuts

me into pieces

turning me into mush

 

the kind that ends up in the garbage

or on the sidewalk

a biodegradable heap of fiber and juice

soon to be squashed underfoot

or eaten by some feral animal

 

I am nothing but an orange

Round and repugnant