black cherries

there was a cherry
tree
on the corner
of Winthrop
street
and Maury lane
and when
full and ripe,
the owners
gone for the weekend,
we'd raid
it in the middle
of the night
by moonlight.
scrambling
up the thick
branches
eating cherries
by hand
until we were
sick of cherries,
our fingers
red, our t-shirts
soaked with
juice. our small
bellies full.
it was no surprise
when it was
cut down.
everyone had had
enough of a
good thing.