Poetry: Linguistic Bananas

One fine evening, I asked for poetry prompts, and a friend asked me to write a poem about bananas, the linguistic kind. I had to look it up. This was about three years ago, and it's still silly.

 Fruit Flies Like A Banana, Part 1: 

“Mine,” snarked the snail.
“No, mine!” cried the slug.
“WE SHALL DESCEND AS A HOARD UPON THIS
AND CLAIM IT AS OUR ANCESTRAL BIRTHRIGHT,”
claimed the fruit flies.

Thus was there a bloody war over the forgotten banana
carelessly thrown under the bush.

Fruit Flies Like A Banana, Part 2:

Whenever they flapped their leaves,
they tried very hard to mimick the grace of the
yellow boomerang swirling in the air,
leaving a smoothie in its wake.

Ah, if only they could be content
with the reality of being far-flung
instead of trying to be what they were
not.

Fruit Flies Like A Banana, Part 3:

But I’m not sure
that this is a good idea;
banana trees may only produce a single bunch
in their lifetimes,
but they also never stop growing and keep
popping up new trees anyway.

What I mean to say is,
I thought you wanted to get rid of the flies,
not clone them.

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