Old Lady I Talked To Today

Your face looked like
the sourest of apples;
puckered, pickled,
angry arches.
The sourest of apples;
the one that
fell from the freight,
out of the truck,
off of a cliff.
The one that
heard its heart
break on the rocks
& decayed in defense
to this split in its core.
The one that stayed sour
by never asking for more.