Burnt Cookies

They didn’t taste very good
Even the unburnt pieces I managed to find
Among the dough I didn’t eat.
Usually when I make cookies
They are beautiful and delicious;
Not these.
Dark, brown, and hard
Cemented to the cookie sheet
Spread across the entire pan
Placed under hot water for
Four hours;
Eventually the bonds would break
And the scraping would begin
Scrape Scrape Scrape
It turns into a melody
To amuse me during the hour
Of scraping.
Then suddenly, the cookies are no more
And I am worried
Left with only yet another good story
Of the cookie sheet and me.


This is from the night when everything went wrong. I love my best friend Erin, we have known each other since we were 6 and every time we see each other-- we bake. Cakes, cookies, chex mix (we have found a way to bake it), and other various delicious treats. Anyway, Erin's parents left for Temple around 7:45 and were to be back around 10. In two hours, what could go wrong?!
I spoke too soon. With in two hours, we had forgotten about the cookies in the oven, her dog had chewed through the cord on her clothes iron, i had shattered the light on the fan in the living room, her cat had class in its foot and we were missing another cat. It was a fun night.

A Heavy Brow

All I want to do
Is have your trust again
Dance across your eyelids
Tango up your heavy brow
And erase the pain that I have caused

If only I knew to take your battered body
And breathe it back to life

If you let me foxtrot with you
All the way down to your nose
And fix what I have done
I would try to earn your trust

If only I knew to take your battered body
And breathe it back to life

If you let me waltz with you
All the way down to your cheek
And ride a tear from you chin
To see where it would fall
I would promise to dance with you again

Just wait for me to return