all i want is one persimmon.

what i wouldn't 

do for one taste

.

.

.

one day

to relive the market and 

forint exchange, to glance 

across and mutter in my best 

köszönöm. where the blush in 

my cheeks resemble the fresh 

fruit skin that smile and glitter 

as I squeeze by the teeming 

traffic of market goers and 

vendors who will forget 

me by next monday

until then I go 

hungry

.