Never Try to Eat a Prickly Pear by Peter McKenna
Don’t even try to eat it on a dare.
‘Twas the first sin of Adam to eat of the fruit.
‘Twas the beauty of Eve that misled that galoot.
For the pear, she is lovely and blossomed and backed
By the spatula’d cactus, both prickly, that’s fact.
And the pear, petite oval of succulent hue,
Ranging from purple to violet to blue,
Doth contrast the cactus, a gas station green,
Which sort of resembles a young Lima bean.
Withal, ‘tis edible, the spawn of this cactus,
But eating it properly doth take some practice.
Thou needs’t on each hand a thick leather glove,
Needs’t gingely art, as porcupines love.
Barehanded, think’st thou to pull off such tricks,
Fingertips grasping the pear between pricks,
Then with your Swiss Army to peel away skin,
Exposing the wine dark pulpfruit within,
And carve off a bite of this pear so divine,
Certain thou art that ‘tis quite free of spine?
So what if your hands start to feel prickly stings?
Omnivorous botanists laugh at such things.
Now pop in that mouthful, mmm yeah, put her there.
Tasty it is, more like kiwi than pear.
However, your hands feel now planted with quills;
You’re starting to question your quest for these thrills.
Still, now you can say you et cactus
In desertland south.
But my god, you’ve turned queer!
You’ve got pricks in your mouth.
San Luis Obispo,