The Mystery of the Pears

I looked at the pears. I painted the pears, what they
were like. I waited for the pears to reveal their
mystery. Five brown pears in a chipped white bowl, 
soft and scarred and blushing yellow in the throbbing
dark. They shine in their suits. I hung them on
the wall. Precise. A landmark. You might like it here. 
I think that you might like it here.