i'm back, i think

small apples

on a lunchtime squeezed
between vinyl LPs he saw
them together and said she
looked dour, with a frown
that would taste sour
like small apples,
puckered and brown.

comforted by the concern
of his angry words -
“i could have killed him”
made moralities blur, as
i practised my sneer
in the rear view mirror
thinking how nice it would be
to soften in the sun.