She bit the pear.
It was bruised on one side,
Splotches of brown and blood,
But segued into a hemisphere
Of pristine fruit,
Like the patchwork of verdant fields from an airplane portal
Looking down on the mottled paradise
Of Middle America
Veined by ribbons of Lincoln Town Cars
And lime green hybrid electro-cars
Which side did she bite?
And what kind of metaphysical question is this?
Was the pear rouged on one side
With dyes mitred through a
Rube Goldberg of glass and alchemy?
Or was it unlucky in landing,
Its face pressed, injured and without a Samaritan
Against a gravelled road,
Its Janus smiling at the California sun?