Lunchtime observation

I chew the apple, ponderously, and notice
The eyelash that has fallen on the fruit,
From one of my eyes, where else?
It sits on the edge of a crater of a bite,
So I pluck it.
Later, the apple begins to turn brown;
A familiar transformation that, since
I was a child, has ceased to faze me.
You see, I will finish the fruit regardless.

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