bakery on Lee highway
to reminisce
with Frederick,
the head baker.
he comes out with his apron on,
his tall white hat
balanced on his head.
the dust of flour on his hands
and face, his mustache.
he nods and smiles
when he sees me.
pats me on the back
with his oversized hand.
how are you, he says.
it's been a while.
he points up
to the display shelf,
and says we still have your
wedding cake.
still beautiful.
we wrapped it in plastic.
we waited, but
you never picked it up.
let me know
when you need another.
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