Maybe we should talk about oranges:
Those yellow oranges;
who do not stay to be plucked
Nor allow themselves to be stuck
To a branch in the tree.

May we, then, talk about their lack of proper colour?
Colour that doesn’t fit in and out of the farmers’ basket.
May we, then, talk about yellow oranges that fall;
Only at night when no one is looking?Those oranges…
That roll away from eager snails, which hope for nature to drill a hole
That they may suck the citrus juice.

Shall we then talk about these different things, beautiful, regardless; which
argue that they are oranges…Yellow oranges, never the less off orange oranges?
Shall we talk about the cracked soil
Which famine broke with its funny dancing?
Shall we find a common place to do so?

Can we bemoan how this orange:
This yellow orange is dried of juice when the sun rises the next morrow?
Or how bitter it becomes seeing that it wishes to be left alone?
Can we talk about a yellow orange and not talk about ourselves
In an undying attempt to legalize the wrong;
In the name of “standing strong?”

Can we, now, leave oranges
And their free-falls from branches
And talk about humans
who should be orange
but are yellow…
…yellow oranges?

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