Black and White Fantasy

I can see them from outside the shop.

They’ve just come from the oven

and now spread out on a sheet.

Rows of round cookies

with shiny frosting on top.

Half black.

Half white.

No need to compete.

Equal partners in sweet sin.

The yang

and the yin.

Ebony

and ivory

existing as one.

Equal partners

in blissful harmony.

I’ll buy one for sure

and save it for later

I say every time.

But I have no control.

I have no restraint.

And my hand is in the bag

before I’m even out the door.

Inside the bag, my hand gropes the warm moist mound.

What am I searching for?

What will be found?

Determined fingers break off a piece.

Will it be white?

Will it be black?

I have no preference.

I play no favors.

I want to be fair.

I want to do what’s right.

I pull it out

and look at what I hold in my finger.

My heart sinks a bit.

And then I get mad.

I’m not happy.

I don’t like the sight.

Because in my finger,

I hold the white.

Harmony broken,

I pull out the cracked cookie.

Black is better,

There’s no denying.

If I said any different,

I’d just be lying.

Still it wouldn’t make sense,

to throw the white away.

So I’ll eat it first and get

that out of the way.

One sweet brother gone

half a cookie remains.

So much for togetherness.

Nothing stays the same.

I’ll eat the black

until nothing is left.

I’ll enjoy every bite,

I’ll have no regrets.

My belly full now,

remorse sets in.

My mind is in conflict.

Because I favored the yin,

when in my heart,

I know I’ve panged,

to give equal respect to the yang.

Some say it’s a fantasy;

that there’s no such thing

as cookie equality.

But peace can exist

in one perfect round.

A place where sweet truths

can often be found.

It’s not hard to discover

the secret of black and white.

It’s easy really.

All it takes is one bite.

The cookie crumbles.

Tags: cooking, culture, Dining, Food, New York City