The last piece.
A knife,
Hovering over a piece of chocolate cake
Beads of perspiration on my upper lip
Threaten to pull me from my arduous task.
But I remain,
Employing my full energies,
Attempting to slice the cake
In half.
Exactly.
The taunting voice of my son
Hangs in the back of my mind,
Remembering the previous last piece:
"You got the bigger one! No fair!"
Memories
Which make me all the more anxious
To complete this task.
The last piece...
My task would not exist
If we had more than one piece
(Not to mention the human desire
To obtain all he can get.)
As my love for the chocolate intensifies,
I pick up the piece
And graciously shove it in my mouth
In its entirety.
This is always the easiest solution to the problem...
But I can never think of an excuse.