the bike fruit

On my way home I spy your yellow beauty as I bike past.
One will not do so an entire box is purchased.
Balanced on my handlebars I gently guide them home
I don't drop a single one.

On my front porch I sit with a small knife.
Scoring the skin in four it peels off so easily.
The first bite and the fruit falls apart into my mouth and over my chin.

Sticky fingers and sticky lips and so many mangoes to go.
A friend comes to share and then we're back on the bikes
Out for a while but back home soon enough to eat more
They are the perfect prepostduring bike ride food