Poem: How to Eat Cactus Apples

From my experience, I recommend

eating them with your imagination.

Do not, while walking the trail alone,
succumb to the allure

of the ripe fallen fruit

gathered in a fertile mound

at the foot of the cactus.

Do not, in childlike innocence,

bend down and pick up the reddest fruit

with the seemingly smooth skin.

Do not peel the skin back with your thumbs.

Do not raise the fruit to your nose

and inhale it’s exotic tropical fragrance.

Do not plunge your index finger and thumb

into the juicy golden flesh and extract

a shimmering morsel of sweetness.

Do not place the shimmering morsel of sweetness

in your mouth and swish it around

like newly poured wine.

If you do not do these things,

you will not find your tongue and palette

studded like a bed of nails

with countless microscopic cactus quills.

You will not find yourself spending the rest

of your hike around Paradise Mountain

plucking and spitting like a man with

a mouthful of loose tobacco.

You will not find yourself

distracted from the moment

and the glories of the hike

by composing in your head

a poem about how to eat cactus apples,

hoping you won’t forget your best ideas

before you get home and put them all on paper.