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The severed lime
Lying on the white tile
Residue of last night’s tonic
Greets me with its fading sheen
I wonder do all limes hold ten wedges
Like people two kidneys & eyes
But only one heart & mouth
And if not what makes
For nine or eleven?
Italian tomatoes
Have three sections
Thickly separated moistly
Sheltering the gelatinous seeds
I wonder are tomatoes always the same
Like raccoons with their four feet
All to run & two to open jars
I suspect beef steaks
Must have more
I love symmetry
Wherever it is found
Especially the twos of what
We have two of as well as the ones
Which because of their unique potential
Can make us all melt with pleasure
Like chocolate & cool to reform
Why is it that I love
To count things?
Poet's Corner 
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