Pity Party
Oh, Magic Chef chest freezer,
why hate me so that you
wickedly mutate
my birthday’s beloved frozen
Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Pie
into a sticky, liquid monstrosity,
oozing unseen for…
how many days now?
My grocery adventure complete,
I return with two week’s worth provisions…
and as I move my beloved pie,
so that I might cradle my chicken thighs
twixt frozen fruit and vegetables,
the Lovecraftian horror reveals itself…
my fingers sticky with sweet brown creamy goo
as the pie undulates in its cardboard coffin
like ocean’s tide upon the shore.
The Tarot lays down
the ten of swords.
Pity takes hold.
This is not happening.
This is not happening.
This is not happening.
There is belief,
and there is truth.
Truth takes hold the next day
as I shell out two-hundred four dollars
and seventy-one cents
for a chest freezer.
“Belief is not the opposite of truth.
Belief seems to be what shapes your truth.”
Wait!
What does that even mean?
