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​What strange and crazy shape,
this unfamiliar fruit.
I have not seen its like before,
nor recognize its root.

I overheard it called an apple,
yet it is from no orchard I know.
Its appearance is unpalatable,
and I am curious to try it, but, no.

Maybe I’ll just break it open,
and have a quick look inside.
Make sure it should be on the market,
something those like me can abide.

Look at all these crazy seeds!
We can’t have this type of fruit around.
It might cross with the other apples,
then this will become a crazy fruit town.

No, send it back! Burn down the trees!
Pass laws to keep the damn things out!
We like our fruit the way it is.
Isn’t that what we’re all about?

M. Zane McClellan

Copyright © 2016
All rights reserved

A week ago I woke up with the  intention of finishing writing a short story I have been working on. Like my poetry, I hope to amass an inventory to shop around for publication or perhaps a contest if I write one well enough.

In the process I devoted my inner dialogue to the task of creating story in prose with all the attendant literary devices and compelling action and dialogue. What I didn’t plan for was shutting off my writing of poetry, but that’s what I got.

I have started several, and now boast a healthy collection of WIPs (Works In Progress) that are likely doomed to the same fate as most digital photos taken these days, eternal cyber-existence, never to see the light of day.

Happily, Crazy Fruit came to me this morning. I hope you like it. Please be sure to let me know if you do. I’ll be back soon to catch up on my reading of everyone’s wonderful and inspiring writing. Until then, be well, and continue to paint the world with your words.

Peace,

Michael

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