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My Sweet Clementine

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A clementine with twig and leaf

encourages the belief

it was freshly plucked

by a girl who looked

like Sophia Loren

who raised her peasant skirts and then

gathered her crop in a sun-drenched grove,

hitched up a horse-drawn cart then drove

to a quaint Spanish village to market her wares

brushing off suitors and lustful stares.

 

More flavoursome and ripe

than the common leafless type -

this was lovingly dispatched

with a bit of twig attached.

I imagine it to be

picked by her for me

‘though I’m not entirely clear

how it got from there to here.

 

I peel it quickly, shove it in,

the juices running down my chin,

picturing of course

its charming rustic source,

a harvest lush and fruity

and an ample bosomed beauty.

 

 

So astute are they

who market it this way.

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