In the shopping mal conversations hum around.
Sitting still.
Diferent concerns pass by every minute. Some twice, some many times more. Anger, wining, love, twisting.
But very rarely bananas.
Sandwidges. Yes ham and egg. Coffee cant you smell it?
But bananas. None.
To her. Masterful. I kink you, in return for the tree. 'Bare legged you must go and return with sweet bananas'.
'Take your time and choose them well, I will wait to commemorate your pennance.'
Rises then nipples hard as glass. Not daring to look around. Trousers limpid on the mall bench. Anger, wining, love and twisting all misses a beat. Passing concerns slow and forget their intention. Heels clicking away to the cornucopia of the sweet banana seller.
A long time. Am I deserted. Is it a failure. Must I go back to the tree and ask again?
I see the crowd ripple as it slows around. Bananas perched like an African home from market. A fine pair of legs too.
Returned. Sitting. Legs naked in the Mal. Banana peeled. She was a picture.