Cherries are everywhere in Brooklyn right now. At the bodegas, you can buy them in little cellophane bags or black styrofoam trays covered in plastic. I bought a pound today. There was a long time when I wouldn’t eat cherries at all, I thought they all tasted like the scary bright maraschino thing that came on top of sundaes, the ones that I would immediately remove and put on a napkin, which grew sticky and red. The first time I ate a real cherry, I was living in Ohio. I took one from a bag held by the person in the passenger seat of my car. I put the whole thing in my mouth, and when I found the pit, threw it out the window while I drove and later, I wondered if where the pit landed a tree might grow.