Today I've eaten apples, apples because of you, because you've never known another fruit, a fruit found as delicious. Today I've eaten apples, apples because of me, because I've never known another fruit that is like me, no, not in that fashion in another fashion. This is not to say I'm edible. This is not to say I'm red nor is it to say I'm green or golden nor is it to say I'm perfectly round, nor is it to say that I'm busty, nor is it to say I've fallen to be picked up. I am like an apple in a fashion, but not in that fashion, not because of bark or trees, or trucks or denim. I am of a fashion, but not of that fashion, I am of a kind but not of that kind, not of the kind you have guessed me. All you know is I eat apples, apples that remind me of me, but I merely state it and it is inconclusive if it's my actual meaning, merely a statement in case the barn houses interrogate me and the roadside mailboxes chase me into the west.