The counter was chalked in flour and
I kept trying to lick the uncooled sugar from the pan.
(before it blackened and congealed as if decaying compost; steaming)
No one ate your cake. You chiseled it out of its 9x13x2 inch, straight to the garbage pail.
Then we noticed (moist and underneath it) a pamphlet for some charity or foundation.
I could not stop laughing. It poured and poured from my throat, trying to
puke up your cooking.
(On the cover: kids with rainbow tigers on their cheek, bald men in silly hats, disconnected balloons; flying)
But it’s funny. I said That’s a funny picture.
Then my sister (directly): It’s for multiple sclerosis.
