“Put’m up, Lady.”
“What! You’re not a Glock, you’re a papaya.
And how dare you invade my home,
Break down my door, and intrude
On my sleep.”
“Lady, I said hands up.”
“Well, it didn’t actually happen like that
But it might have, unexpectedly,
No notice, far from the ordinary reaction
To eating dried fruit.”
Who ever heard of an allergy like this.
Yes, I have moderate difficulty with
Cat dander, leaf mold, and dust
But not delectable tropical fruit,
Not an allergy to papaya.
Oh well, next it’s going to be
Yogurt, chicken soup, or
Green tea. Where will I be then,
Existing on air and water?
Sustaining life with no delights,
Victimized by this chemical plant
I call a body
Telling myself, if it happens again
I’ll take extreme measures, cut Trade
Relations with countries south of here,
Or at the least,
get a kiwi for