Each evening, weather permitting, I take a thirty minute stroll to put some fresh air into my lungs and clear my head. The following verse has been inspired by an actual yard I pass each night on those strolls.
The sharp sweet bite of alcohol assaulted J’s nostrils as he passed the chrome mesh fence. Through the links J could clearly see piles of, what had been fresh Red Delicious Apples, now brown wrinkled corpses of neglected fruit; their once sugary juices fermenting unchecked.
Dangling above the mounds of rot, J saw bright red orbs of delectable produce awaiting their wasted fate. Pangs teased his stomach. He smacked his lips at the thought of plundering the otherwise unwanted treasure. Yet, a gleaming white sign promised prosecution of all those who traversed the fence.
J continued down the lonely road, the smell fading slowly from his weary senses.