Stephen and his Pineapple

Stephen and his Pineapple

he used to just let them
rot on his countertop, the sweet
pungent smell of ripe pineapple
wafting from his kitchen.
his mouth would water,
but he couldn’t figure out how
to cut it up and eat it, this master
of industrial engineering, the
one who explains to me regularly
how best to do just about anything.
now, he brings them to me,
accompanied by a rather pathetic,
pleading look, and he leaves them
behind on my counter top
to ripen, their pungent sweet smell
filling my kitchen, until I sharpen
a knife and set to work, eating
every other piece during the process,
and saving the other half for Stephen.