Nectarines settle in the icy 
dawn, one skin against another.
The cherries are out of fashion-
berries in general are aggressive.

Panda bowl. 
Vivid rips in the fabric of reality,
squash like the evening sun, crass
pumpkins, pink at a banquet.

Sometimes the oranges go magic,
bobbing down the market. Slice
them for a white light, the turnips
are moons, mais quel est un gourd?

Nobody knows. Traders wheel
like birds in slipstreams, biggy 
biggy big bowl they cry, breath
exiting into the crisp morning Wow.