crumb cake

your refusal to bake
me a cake is disheartening
to say the least.
how many more letters
must i send, how many
more e mails and texts,
and voice mails must
i leave for you to
understand my needs, my
desires. my life is
nothing if not about
cake. but you're falling
way short in this
department of pleasing
me. i fell in love with you
because you were a
baker, and off you go
to work every morning,
and late nights, baking
rolls and muffins, pies
and bread, coming home with
the sweet smell of flour
and salt, eggs and sugar
in your hair, but never,
not once do you bring me cake.
when i drink my coffee
in the morning, and my
hand is empty, it's a
reflection of us, of you.