Midlife Crisis

It is a muggy midsummer day
And I am in the living room of a very wealthy man I do not know
He is out of town, courting a tobacco baroness on a trip to Paris or Stockholm or some faraway place
So I am told.
My friend and I explore the deserted bedrooms where his children grew up,
Wander through the basement with the billiards and the Foosball table
Where I imagine it was often said,
“Yes, I’ll have another Coke”
Because money was no object and that is the American dream.
I envision this unseen man, this McMansion lord.
When handed the bowl of fruit he grabbed at them compulsively
Swallowing them core and all, scrambling to find the hidden treasure beneath,
The sweetest fruit of all —
But instead just found the bottom of the bowl
And the inscription,
“This is it”

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