of the bakery.
all those donuts, those pastries.
those wedding cakes.
sometimes i stop
and stare in the window
at the long shelves
full of baked goods.
bags of fresh rolls.
the lady tries to wave me
in, tempting me by holding
up an eclaire
or an olive loaf,
but i resist.
i've seen the light.
praise the Lord,
i'm saved from all that dough.
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