Cake Face

What's more fun than your first cake?

The black and white Polaroids

with the giant head, eyes that

are bright blue, even though

they show up white in the picture.

 

The ga-ga mouth and nose

that show emotion but don’t

know it yet, wondering at

me like a dog at dinner time.

 

“Is that hair on your face?

when did you get hair?” and

“can you eat hair?” irritated,

saying he’s  better off, not knowing.

 

He’s already turned interest

to a terrible chocolate cake,

sprawled on the plastic table

on the highchair, a card taped

 

to the edge of the seat, Thinking

of you.  His eyes growing in feet

at the size of his new challenger,

sizing him up, he puts his hand

 

to his mouth and his other hand

pointed to the sky as if he might

shoot somebody in displeasure.

“No one threatens my town.”

 

The stubby fingers are stupidly

reaching for the opponent’s face

and they graze the creamy and gushing

surface, hoping the monster fights fair.

 

Realizing the enemy’s intentions of

peace, he has no time to lose, before

the brown beast has a chance to react,

our hero grabs a chunk off of him,

 

and to ensure he would never speak

again, he ate the gravelly, slimy chunk.

He spread his enemy’s blood like war paint,

bathed head, hands, feet, and chest at high noon.

The beast devoured, he relishes the taste

looking up at me, startled, forgetting,

I was there, I was a witness to his survival,

A pink and red grin underneath mud.

Author's Note

Take a few seconds for a review if your stopping by. I don't bite.