The Farmer's Market

rolled one by one
to the crooked table's edge
sticky blood oranges
hanging on
one breath away
from free fall
a drop shot
their downfall

no one seems to notice
i don't know how much longer
they can hold on
perched there
on such a very
small
ledge

may push them off myself
save them the humiliation
when with
one good squeeze
quicker than a startled gasp
if the lights go out
eyes close
and they get blamed
for the strange
stinging
flowing into
darkness

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