a haze of fruit flies,
lazy loitering, feet
sticky-sunk in the fuzz
of a rotting peach,

or wing-whiskering
slick freckled skin—
five o’clock shadow
on a weary banana.

Was it only days ago,
we were model organisms,
four pairs of chromosomes
eager to experiment?

Now we’re fading, slow-
circling delicious decay,
lured to the leavings
of last night’s wine.

Go ahead, succumb
to the sweet vinegar.
Float in the syrup
of summer’s remains.