She pointed a pale finger at the dark part, and with
a crinkled nose and eyes filled in disgust flicked it off—
I liked the crisped ends of fries.
She said browned bananas had gone bad,
Meant to perfume a garbage can—
I liked the sweet of a soft brown speckled banana.
She said if I covered my face in lemon juice,
And he said if I covered my face in the orange
Of turmeric then I'd look brighter,
Lighter—
But I like seeing the brown shadows 
Highlight and mold my skin, like them knowing 
I eat brown bananas and lemon rice coated
In spiced turmeric and that I love the bitter sweet,
the blacker berry.