City of Apples

In our lunch hour,
I ask my friend why.
He tells me
Its because we are oranges
In a city of apples.
When I protest,
He says
"A peach then.
You are a peach in a city of apples."
I don't like this any more
Than the oranges thing.
So he sighs
And says
"People here want apples,
Something you and I will never be.
There is nothing wrong with this."
And I hate this explanation
Most of all,
Because what I am really
Is a fire-bird, a phoenix.
Anyone with any shred of insight
Should be able to see this.
This city, despite the hoop-la,
Is full of men without imaginations.

It is a bleak day,
And a momentary silence falls
Between my friend and I.
Then, he thoughtfully says
"But I'm really hot, back in Pittsburgh."