California

the small spherical
plums fall from the tree
exactly ripe. This is the only time
I can have a true plum.

sweet nectar of a fresh, ripe plum
straight from a plum tree
juicy, the taste caresses my toungue.

plums are summer,
are california, the dying tree brought back from
death with fertilizer and care.

the tree returns the love
in the sweetest gems I’ve ever tasted.

a fresh plum from the icebox
is the best combatant against
midsummer heat on a cloudless california day.

sitting on the covered porch in the rotting
wicker sofa watching the traffic and skateboard kids
eating this plum is the only place I ever want to be.