I was called a cherry before I tried one
a cherry told me I was a cherry
now I visit entire cities without them
I was called a cherry before I knew one
a cherry told me there were none
now I know pits and skins everywhere
I was told I was a cherry so I didn’t want to be one
a cherry told me I was a grape
now I see grapes become them
I never tried a cherry, no, that’s too scary, cherry
a grape told me I’d die a cherry
now I tie tongue knots in their stems and learned—
you don’t have to be a cherry to pick one
you don’t have to love a cherry to eat one
you don’t ever have to say you are one
enough about fruit, all I know is
I have an appetite for cherries
you can call me by my name