I Refuse to Play

The coffee here
comes with a free
Biscoff brand cookie
it is
according to the package
Europe’s favorite
cookie with coffee
and I assess that assertion
literally
slowly lowered into the oily black brew
I watch as the liquid
is absorbed
drawn up the biscuit’s length
against gravity
espresso and hot water climbs
creeping like a rot
of rising damp
infecting studs
undermining the integrity
the security of the home
my treat now soaked
up along half
its one inch span
rises form the dark depths
vertically it ascends
above the ceramic rim
the cookie performed the penetration
but it is it
that is impregnated
both with coffee and the possibility
cookie’s and coffee’s combination promises
I rotate the sweet
to the horizon
advance it toward my parting lips
when the wet weight
weakens the structure
the front end breaks away
but “break” is incorrect
it sloughs off
plops to the table
a splattery brown befoulment
and as I wipe up
the dun dung-like mess
of the baked goods I’ve been denied
I think to myself
observing what
the white paper serviette holds
that a Biscoff brand cookie
thoroughly java-saturated
would make the most perfectly
ghastly smear
inside a diaper
for that disgusting game
enjoyed at baby showers
where party guests attempt
to identify
what loads the soiled nappy

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