At the fringe of dark wild,
I craved comforts so simple,
A mere tissue, blown into, was saved.
My rumbling gut
craved fruit
rarely found in Alaskan forest.
It felt like a drug deal.
I chose just one.
One I thought might do the deed.
At lunch I whisper:
Can you find me an apple?
Complicit, my waitress leans in,
knowing she too, takes a risk.
I can, but it will cost you.
Doesn’t matter, I say
as if I have millions.
Then what do you want?
I scan for spies at nearby tables.
All clear.
Two apples,
two bananas,
to heal a shocked body
back to rhythm it knows.
She fades away quickly,
returns with a sack
and forbidden contents.
My bills feel luscious,
and I pay in cash,
adding hefty tip
for her employment risk.
She smiles subtly back,
departing quickly
avoiding capture.
And so,
if I asked God
can I have my life back?
What would be the price?
Would I pay it?
