Skip to main content

Sweet Distant Cake

The nicest thing any man has done for me lately, and not very lately but lately enough, was give me an impromptu visit with a piece of cake.

I would have used diamonds for sandpaper.
Roses for my bath.
A ring for drug money. 

But cake is one of those things... you could fuck it if you wanted to-but you don't. It commands an endearing respect. It's the principle of it-more importantly, it was the principle of the fact that it wasn't fete accompli pussy cake. I don't know you exceedingly well but I know you well enough that you wouldn't have been so moronically debonaire as to impose your sensual rhetoric through diabetic bribes.

Oh my word that cake was a treat,
but the man who brought it was a bona fide hero-

For me?

All the way here?

You didn't have to-
But you did!

Well! I'll have to bake you a pie sometime.

I'll send it in the mail for you.
Although, it won't look very nice by the time it gets there-
So maybe a crumble instead.

You can eat it in the desert,
and even if you can't remember my name,
it will taste as delicious as if you did.

But I'll bet those gals bake a mean Boysenberry pie.


Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster


I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.

my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries

May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…