On an autumn morn after the gym
I was floating to the office on my magic shoes.
I stopped into the green grocer’s to buy magic food
that grows already packaged on trees.
Two green apples and two yellow bananas
have been sitting on my desk all day.
Until now, when I decided to eat one of the yellow fruits.
I separated the bananas and picked up a knife
to help me start peeling one from the bottom
in the odd Czech manner I have adopted.
But as I held the banana in my hand,
I suddenly stopped with the realisation
that this was an extraordinary banana.
The length, the girth,
the unusual straightness, the firmness –
it reminded me strongly of something else.
This banana is the most astonishing banana
that I have ever seen. How can I
cut it, peel it, break it, bite it through?
When all I really want to do is hold it
and stroke it and admire it.
(I’m in the office after all.)
Should I eat the other one instead?
The one that curves like a cartoon smile
and is not unusually large.
Can it satisfy me now that I have seen banana perfection?
But what of my remarkable banana,
what will it look like tomorrow?
Surely it’s better to eat this piece of God’s art
than to let it wither and become less than itself.
I’m holding it, I’m peeling it,
Oh, what a perfect piece of fruit!
I’m putting my mouth on it,
I’m tasting it, I’m gently biting down.
It yields. This is inexorable satisfaction.