Gratuitous Oranges Poem by David Shapiro

There are those who feed only on oranges.
— S.Y. Agnon

Nothing rhymes in English with an orange.
It stands alone, with luster in a far tinge.
It stands alone, and seems to make a star cringe.

On Saturday it's blue like an orange
Or like a surrealist sight rhyme in a garage.
Nothing rhymes in English with an orange.

But rime riche is rich enough for an orange.
Still my doorman sings, Put it away in storage!
It stands alone, and seems to make a star cringe.

Orange replies: I'm drunk from my last bar-binge
Half-rhymes like hangovers suddenly impinge.
But nothing rhymes in English with an orange.

While my wife in French eats one in her nude linge
Playwrights Synge and Inge flap forward on a car-hinge.
It stands alone, and seems to make a star cringe.

Pronounce it orange and then expunge.
So ends the story of the very violet orange.
Nothing rhymes in English with an orange.
It stands alone, and seems to make a star cringe.