The watermelon, being stuffed
in a plastic bag held by an unwelcome
hand, came into my house. As if the hand
itself was not interested in what did come
with the bag, it didn’t even move
a finger when the house owner uttered
the empty words; “you didn’t have
to bring this.” The bag held
by the new owner was put in one
corner of the kitchen. No one,
neither the hand that brought the watermelon,
nor the hand that received the watermelon
cared if its taste was awesome or
awful. Perhaps they didn’t even care
if it was a real watermelon or not.
Although the melon, a mere whatnot,
survived being pushed in and out
of all the corners in the house, It never
was out of the bag. One day, the worn-out
bag was seen accidentally by the owner
and was thrown into the trash bin
with still breathing watermelon in it.
The thought that it might have been
the severest and delicious tidbit
In the world never occurred
to anybody in the house.
The watermelon never existed
from this world’s nascence.