Bent double by the burden of innocence,
I stumbled to the tree.
Craning my neck sideways,
I looked up to see the pear hanging from the bough.
My arm reached up to air,
The pear’s plump woman’s bottom dancing beyond my fingers.
I stood on toes and stretched to grasp the fleshy fruit
And pulled it down to my open mouth.
The fresh juice splashed outside my lips
And slithered down my throat like a snake.
I looked up again.  I was standing straight and free.
Awareness smote me like a stone.
“It’s not my fault,” I thought.
“It was that curvy shape and slippery taste
That made me what I am.”
I looked down and knew I was tall and naked.
I turned my giant body and left the garden.