He has twenty-three oranges stacked like a pyramid in a bowl on his counter, some citric Mayan temple to the sun god of fruit.

Outside of the produce section in the grocery store, I have never seen so many oranges displayed so proudly.

But what is he going to do with twenty-three oranges?

It will be painful if he consumes that many in the time it takes mold to form.  I know he doesn’t need penicillin that badly.

So, is it art?  Is it a party favor? Is it buy one get twenty-two free?

And then you come in, swiping off the eye of the pyramid, juggling three oranges as if all is right with the world.

I should never take life so seriously.  You think I would have learned this by now.

Copyright 2010

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