This apple is important. Wrapped in wax
Or something else, it's fattened, painted red,
Arranged in socially-constructed stacks
Beneath the misters, eaten, sauced and spread
Around; a lady cultivar, I twisted
Its stem and tossed the label, rubbed my thumb
Across the pesticides, and read the listed
Ingredients: just skin and made-up gums
Hodge-podge implanted in the DNA.
A crunchy band of helices gets stuck
Between my teeth, so when I floss today
I'll swish and spit the product out. With luck,
The trademark is intact; just eat before
The apple browns, and always ask for more.
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