out of the blue

I'd appreciate comments on this poem I wrote for my class today.

Nectarines

I said I preferred peaches,
but you wanted a nectarine.
So we brought it back
and you portioned it out
and I found it wasn't better —
only different. You went back
to your city, and I held the taste
in my mouth for days.

Curl the knife around the pit;
gently twist the halves apart.
Admire the honey-golden forms
and the rich-veined flesh.

So what did I buy at the grocer's
on St. Benedict's Street? Not
peaches, but smooth nectarines.
It is different in this country,
where pleasures have become
necessities.
These days I cannot taste
except in memory.