the plum peeler

there was once a girl who lived on a mountain above a town.
every spring, she went to town.
under blue tents, she ate soft buttons of flesh that came marinated in wine.
they are mussels, said the vendor, who smelled of boiled salty air.
the mussels made her full and giddy.
then she moved on to the cabbages, the dates, the tomatoes, the eggplants and to loaves of rosemary bread.
she also liked the sunset sounds the town brewed.
the people there blew into metallic cylinders and beat on skin and strummed on curtains of beads to make noise that made her want to move her feet.

one spring, she met a guy. he sold plums.
he peeled the plums to show her their red depth.
he would never cheat, he said. he was an honest man, he said.
she bought his plums. she ate his plums. he didn't have to peel his plums anymore.
when winter wore wild hues of bright colours
she shed her sweaters and scarves and skipped down to spring town.
to plums. to him.
he came each spring. they walked up the mountain to her room, at nights. he watered her garden. they planted garlic, and onions, and basil and chillies and cilantro.
they cooked long meals. they ate long meals.
they never slept at night because there was so much to say so much to look at so much to listen to so much to laugh so much to touch so much to so much.

then one spring, the plums didn't taste as good. she asked him to peel them for her.
to show her their sweet ripe insides again.
but he was saddened by the thought.
why must i peel my plums when i haven't had to for five spring years? he asked.

soon, her house on the mountain began to feel too far.
it was either too steep.
or too hot.
or too dark.
or too late.
they stayed under his plum selling tent.
they began to sleep at night.

then when another spring set in, she felt it was too early to skip to town. it was still cold.
she waited a week longer than usual.
and when she finally got to the blue vendor tents
she ran her fingers over the mussels, the cabbages, the dates, the tomatoes, the eggplants, and loaves of rosemary bread
she didn't see the plums.