Wednesday, March 25, 2020


It was four in the morning,
and we were out of cookies,
and the stores were all closed,
of course,
and even if they had been open,
I had already taken off
my pants and my bra,
so I laid on my back
and tried not to think of them:
chocolate chip,
peanut butter,
oatmeal raisin,
double chocolate chip,
white chocolate cranberry,
toffee chip,
sandwich cookies,
Girl Scout cookies,
Italian wedding cookies,
and so on.
Wide awake still
and now ravenous,
I raided my pantry
for possible ingredients.
I found
baking soda,
almond extract,
and an old box of raisins.
In the fridge
I had butter
and three eggs.
Not even working from a recipe,
in my madness,
I mixed all of these things
in a bowl,
til I thought it looked dough-like
and dropped spoonfuls onto
my one baking sheet.
I baked them at 325 degrees
for eight minutes
and then another five
and barely let them cool
before I scarfed them down.
They wound up being more bread
than cookie,
but they were warm and sweet,
and I felt almost sick
when I thought about how many
and how quickly I had eaten.
I made some coffee
and watched the sun rise.
A few cars were on the street already,
and I wondered,
where could they possibly be going?

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