a mental exercise, why? just popped in my mind (as most silly things do)…
what if I was cake?
would that not be a wonderous thing, the joy, the trees of light, a forest of a number, a name in script applied with sugary frosting ink across my brow, like those temporary tattoos you can get for two quarters, the smiles, the songs, the merriment of it all, the gathering of friends and family around-
but then, that first cut, then some more, the once flowing name now smeared on lips and napkins, mere crumbs of your own reflection, your body doled out among the ravenous minion, candles blown out, a quick rise in the sun but now you are devoured, lost to a gut, the only remains a photo on a social post.
perhaps you are lucky and were born a wedding cake, with sentimental figurines adorned, not completely torn apart like most, you survive like some white ghost, in a freezer perhaps, like some ted’s head, hoping with all frigid hope, for no divorce.