you bring cookies.
a plastic
box of sugar
cookies
for the house.
they are sprinkled
with colored
sugar for easter.
yellow and blue.
green.
it's not against
the rules.
you don't think,
but you pass
them around just
the same.
some take them
and begin to
eat, nibbling at
the edges, letting
the crumbs falls
to the floor
or couch.
others put them
in their pockets
or throw them
across the room.
one woman takes
a bite sets it
down, then begins
to tear strips
off the magazine
it sits upon,
and eats that.
your mother has two.
these are good, she
says. did you bake
them yourself?
of course you say.
of course.
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