Peaches and clementines sitting in boxes,
At the shop on the corner,
Where the old man sits,
Spitting orange seeds at his feet.
In a small sleepy town,
People come and go by him.
There are lemons and cherries,
Apricots and plums and wine-tinted grapes.
He sells from his seat made of cartons,
With coins of clementine and sugar-blue,
In strings of pearls wound around blackberries,
And blood-orange hues of grapefruit.
I bought an orange of his at lunch,
We can share it-
Half and half-
This citrus nectar of clementine coins.