i used to want to eat golden delicious apples  

just because of the word "golden" 
in the name-- as if the skin were made
of real gold leaf 
& might flake off as i bit down. 
soft marble flesh. 
i ate them careful & slow as if 
having patience might conjure more magic
out of the fruit.
uncle rich too my brother & i to Mr. Food
every day after school where we'd pick
one snack & one drink. i was determined
to understand golden delicious apples
while my brother plucked his usual piece of beef jerky
from a jar by the register.
cold from sleeping in a fridge, 
the convenience store apples were small & tired. 
it was late may 
& none of the apples remembered 
where they came from. i was in 4th grade 
& i imagined new worlds on top of this one.
i often laid in my bed just looking at the ceiling
pretending i was somewhere else. i made up boyfriends 
& girlfriends to lay next to me. i made up 
clouds to find shapes in. i don't think i had learned yet
how to be lonely. i spit the seeds out in my hand &
i talked to them. i asked them if they 
would grow if i watered them & 
uncle rich said i could try if i wanted to.
so, out back, i took 
my five little dark-brown seeds. i kissed each
before pressing them into dirt.
i watered them. i imagined a vein of gold 
bursting underground. i imagined a tree with shiny apples 
unfurling this summer. i would come inside
& lay the gold on the kitchen table 
where dad would weight each fruit & tell us
how much money it was worth. we would 
buy all kinds of snacks each day with all
that money: skittles & licorice & gummy worms.
we would have so many apples that we'd invent games 
to play with them-- throwing apples at the sun
until it bruised white & yellow--
until the sun was a golden delicious apple
bright with sweet skin. 
i watered the ground & i waited
though i always knew the seeds wouldn't grow.
if it were that easy everyone would happy
a golden apple tree. i drew pictures of them.
i sat under their imaginary shade.
i got sun burn in the shapes of clouds.
i picked the fresh translucent fruit 
& told no one about my tree.