The Slightly Bruised Banana

Alone it sits 
upon the counter 
yellow, soft, and ripe 

Gently weeping to itself, 

"Am I just not your type?" 

It fondly thinks of yesterdays 
when connected to the bunch. 

It remembers youthful daydreams 
of being somebody's lunch. 

But now it sits all lonesome 
watching kitchen passerbys 
and with each overlooking 
forms new bruises, spots,... and cries. 

Next time you're in the kitchen 
and see that fruit of yellow 
take and eat the poor old thing 


(or pretend it's a phone, and say hello!)