Ghost Apples

Look at you lamenting
the disappearance of apple pie.

Sitting around all day cussing
the bad apples you have to work with.

Muttering about the past, the crust,
the way it used to be.

No one talks up old-fashioned apple pie 
like someone who thinks

the only good apple
is a ghost apple.

Those good apples, you say,
made great pies.

You can till taste them 
if you try.  We need to bake them

again.  Need better apples.
Need a sturdier crust.

Make apple pies great again,
you say. Get rid of the bad, bad apples.

I’m a good apple, I promise, one
fallen far from your tree,

and I don’t want to be
part of any pie although

I’m as American
as you know what.

Keep longing, keep
imagining old-fashioned flavor.

Those ghost apples will leave you
hungry, famished, starving,

strangling on dry crust.
Meanwhile, I’m doing fine

on a diet
of what’s in front of me,

not on what’s long gone
and left behind, 

and there’s not a bad apple
in sight.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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