Bad apple

Quandary


I was a little disappointed
in the apple I lifted from a bowl of fruit
and bit into on the way out the door, 
fuzzy on the inside and lacking the snap of the ripe. 

Yesterday it was probably perfect, 
I figured, as I held it out before me, 
soft red apple bearing my tooth marks,
as if I were contemplating the bust of Aristotle. 

I considered all the people 
who would be grateful to have this apple, 
and others who might find it in their hearts 
to kill me before slipping it into a pocket.

And I considered another slice 
of the world's population, too, 
those who are shielded from anything 
as offensive as a slightly imperfect apple. 

Then I took a second bite, a big one, 
and pitched what was left 
over the tall hedges hoping to hit on the head 
a murderer or one of the filthy rich out for a stroll.

Billy Collins in "Aimless Love: New and Selected Poems"