Organic
Musings
You
say
I
am
really
cheesy,
And
I
naturally
ask
you,
What
kind?
Am
I
holy
like
Swiss
cheese,
Or
sharp-‐witted
like
Cheddar,
Or
do
I
grate
on
your
nerves
Like
Mozzarella?
You
cringe
at
the
thought.
I
laugh.
I
said
you
were
fruity,
And
you
naturally
ask
me,
What
kind?
Are
you
being
fresh
like
a
strawberry,
Or
sour
like
a
lemon,
Or
are
you
tart
like
a
blueberry?
We
both
laugh,
Until
we
are
crying.
You
are
a
blueberry,
I
said.
And
I
picked
you.
I
tell
you
that
your
eyes
Match
the
night
sky,
Just
as
it
reaches
dusk,
And
if
I
were
an
artist
With
nothing
better
to
do
Than
make
organic
paint
From
fruits,
I
would
paint
both
your
eyes
And
the
sky
behind
you
With
blueberries.
But
you
know
I’m
not.
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