I unloaded the box of Costco tomatoes from the car
Perfectly round, red but not overripe, each
Fits into its appointed hollow in the plastic
Form inserted into the cardboard crate.
I bought them because they’re cheap, and
We eat lots of tomatoes
Even in the summer when we get some from the garden.
Each day I eat one, sliced on my
Sandwich, and wedged, they’re large.
As I cut them and handle them it dawns on me—they’re clones
Identical in every respect for easy harvest,
Shipping, storage and to entice buyers.
Just like at the gym, two women
One young, one much older
Working out on either side of me
My grandma breasts hang low and flat
Theirs defy gravity, identical, perfectly round,
And firm with outie nipples
Waiting to be plucked off the shelf