What is this fruit that smells of plastic? 

Surely, there is an apple in this vast expanse bordered with white illumination.

Look! 

        There!

                  That reddish sheen is unmistakable. So focused is my vision, framed on you. 

        Your yellow blots look so tasty, and oh! there’s a hole! 

         Must be some ancient worm snuck inside, so, it’s healthy. Must be.

I’ll get there soon. The glassy gloss beneath me turns to wood already. 

                               I’m coming, fantastic apple! 

If I knew of your history would I be so excited? If I knew of Adam and Eve? Of the golden myth? 

                                                                                             The bitten one?

Those are not my apples. I know not of them, or, I pretend out of spite. I shouldn’t know. 

                     But you! There’s no evil bound to you name, my rose-coloured golden hope. I have none other.

The banana smelled of death. That pear? Of big scary Bzzz’s that often chase me away. 

              I’m coming, for you are my forbidden thing.

                                 I’m there, freshly plucked bosom of heavenly juice. I’m almost there…