Please do, but I am not fragile.
I emerge from a clear, plastic womb,
wrapped in sheets of bulbous skin.
Pop
Let me shed my excess pulp,
tear at proliferated edges,
Pop
Watch the blush-stained bubbles bounce.
Pop
I tumble and thresh and thrash
Pop
You shriek and spit and scratch.
Mount me and I will cradle you
Can we still exist without air?