a papaya

This morning, I was wondering about the origin of the name papaya. Is it somehow tied to salmon? Fish eggs? The sea? The ripe fruit fell in half with little pressure on the knife. The seeds inside were nestled in pink, semi-elastic goo—a nest of fish eggs. Caviar. Capers. When there was a hole dug into each half, and those halves were quartered. The knife slid easily again, sliding along the curve of the fruit and peeling back the thin skin to show the pink flesh. It could have been covered in scales. It could have been packed on ice and put in the display between shrimp and scallops. I was afraid to smell the fruit, afraid that there could be anything familiar, salt-watery, cold-blooded about the