Arizona Bowl
Citrus won't be ready until January.
Sour orange will never be ready.
In November, young boys
spend time rolling them
across the boulevards
like orange bowling balls.
Two points if they time it,
just the physics of fruit
that meets a spinning tire
and goes splat.
Flattened pulp litters
the streets of oncoming traffic.
I try to help
a worthy boy who makes his play,
slow down a little and aim
my front wheel
toward the low revolution of fruit
on pavement.
A juicy burst is the reward
for which he anxiously awaits.
And for me,
the zesty aroma
stays with the car for miles.
