I could have baked in the sunshine
a pancake for you
but my mind is too foggy
and I am running out of steam




Crisp as a crepe, cranky as rusty wire
we could have drank
from the fountain of youth
Buttered up and slick with desire
we could have dined in a moonlit booth

We could have washed in the creek
our sins away
and warmed up to my dry sense of humor
But here I lie at the end of the day
popping pills to avert a tumor.

We could have cracked eggs, jokes
and problems on the rocks
topped off topless sunsets
with libations and ice-cream

Now, after baking on the beach for years
watching re-runs of fried green tomatoes
You cling to the doorway with cheeks bruised by tears
blinded by my tumors big as potatoes.
Failing, falling frequently.


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