Tangerine

         “Speak Memory”  -- Vladimir Nabokov

the smallest sound, scent or motion
triggers a flood of memories
a river that pushes me along
helpless to control it

I sit here peeling a tangerine
sliding a finger between
the skin and the fruit
that sweet fruit

then it pours out
the memory
sitting in your bedroom
watching you undress
you slide your fingers
between your stockings and your skin
unconscious of the effect it has on me

and so, many years later
tangerine in hand
I bite into a section
the sweet juice mixed with the bitter