Small Fruit

Small Fruit

People ask for so little.

That is half the trouble, there.

If they asked for great gobbets

of self, more than any could spare,

mansions of effort and patience and years—

you could turn and reject

with a righteous shudder: Title

to all I possess can’t be yours.

But they need, so often, such small

fruit—a phrase on the phone, a sunset

stroll, a coffee pot shared—

and, still, you’re not there.