For the Love of Fruit

Who could ever love your fruit more than I, my dear?
I will love your melon balls, even when they are
no longer sweet and juicy, but dry, wilted, like
the prune. And who but I could love your banana
When it's old, soft,squishy, never again sweet, firm?
Like when you were green and freshly picked just for me
When the fruit flies arrive to taste of your rotten,
fermenting fruit. I will be there to protect your
stinky produce. A can of Raid will kill the vile
scavengers. Eventually, the bug spray will form
a cloud of poisonous gases, invading our lungs
dying together, I'll lay my head upon your fruit.