Gorilla My Dreams.


Gorilla My Dreams




They call to me

in grocery stores,
pulling my eyes from

the cherry pop tarts,
whenever I am feeling

a bit over amorous.

Hypnotically guiding

my feet to a bench
near the fruit displays.
Where I sit and

discreetly watch attractive

young housewives,
with long manicured fingers,
or perhaps not yet

cured-of-man fingers,
as they pull and pluck

at the bananas.

Always selecting

with great care

the firmest ones,

grasping the length
of one, six or ten

plump ones, 

as they lay them
gently next to the

smooth white eggs

cradled in their baskets.

They hang out at my house

on a wooden tree,
their joined ends

strung up on a cup hook.

A casual statement to

my healthy lifestyle
they offer me a

jolt of potassium,
as I neatly slice them

over a huge
bowl of fruit loops

to start my day.

I used to do

a magic trick with them
to amaze my relatives

bored kids at gatherings.

Just a small straight pin

inserted secretly

with great care 

at precise segments

into the banana, 
then wiggled gently back

and forth in a straight line.


This allowed you  to produce

and peel a still perfectly whole
and pretty much unmarred banana
which would fall neatly sliced into a bowl.

the kids were all wowed by this one.

We smoked the dried peels once,
back in my hippie-dippy days,
when someone said,

you could get high off of them.

I just remember getting a little greener
than an under-ripe one, and passing
the billowing bong to the next sucker.

Just thought I'd take a few moments
to reflect on how I go bananas sometimes.


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