Fresh Cherries

One day I took a moment

to ask myself

If I am the kind of person

who would stop and buy

shining fresh cherries

wrapped in crackling brown paper

from a red-checker-clothed stall

outside of Brighton station

in the middle of my drizzle-coated commuter dash?

 

My answer was

No.

But I want to be.

 

So I stopped.

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