bananas have a way
of making me feel dumb
they call to me
their quirky shape
so ergonomic
inviting me with ripened sweetness
just shy of spots
a tiny hint of green on top
they woo
and I give in
and that is where it all begins
they mock me as
that stem holds on
no matter how I ply
and twist
until what would be my first delicate bite
has turned to mush
I groan
but soldier on
a battle of wills
with the yellow fruit
I have it on the ropes
and smile as I pull back the flesh
in one long strip
but no
banana wins again
infuriating me with blasted stringy things
that break
and loop back
sticky on my hand
til one by one
I pinch them off
victorious
I gloat
but then I hear the snickering
and turn my conquest
end for end
and see the blackened spot
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