I never thought my greatest companion would be a magic
cheesecake I would never run out of,
or that each bite of it I would scrape off the fork of deserving
with my golden teeth would return to said cake,
and ultimately help me to become a symbol for eternal abundance,
a dream I’ve always had.
What can I say? My cheesecake has always been there for me.
And that’s more than I can say for pretty much anything else.
When I wake up in the morning, it’s always beside me in bed,
waiting for me to spade another piece out of it.
When I go to the movies alone and end up spending
that extra twenty from my overflowing discretionary
on a month’s supply of gummy worms, it’s there, all mine, and
And sometimes, even, when it puts its pasty arm around me
I can intuit that it’s been thinking about trying to cop a feel
with its heavy, crumbling hand, but just hasn’t got up
the nerve yet to crack a move, such a perfectionist my cheesecake is.
That’s when I know I’m lucky and have become most of what
I am. Talk about finding a place of power?
In fact, I think I can say that if it weren’t for my cheesecake
I’d probably be dead.