trip to the dentist

i'm making a cake,
she says, triple
chocolate. it's
a chocolate cake.
i hear her crack
an egg on the side
of a bowl, then
another and
begin to beat
the yolks. chocolate
she repeats. a
chocolate cake.
it's clear what
kind of cake it
is now, and if she
hadn't of said
it the fourth
time i wouldn't
have known. but please,
she stresses, i'm
no suzie homemaker.
so don't get the
wrong impression about
me. i haven't heard
that phrase in
awhile and cringe
with a slight heart
break, the kind you
get when there's
no more half and half
in the silver cannister
at the coffee shop
and you have to ask.
plus i don't drive
at night, or go
into town, or
ever stay out after
nine, and on weekends
i like to play with
my cats and knit.
oh, and i don't drink
or like to kiss until
i get to know someone
really well.
but sure, let's meet.
let's have tea some
afternoon. get to know
one another. it will
be fun. i hear her
mixer go on, rattling
metal against
the glass bowl. i
think about a root
canal i once had.
suddenly my battery
dies, strange how
that happens, and
it's time to go.