Poem: Marriage/Pancakes

Marriage/
Pancakes

When two folks get married,
it’s like sitting down for
all-you-can eat pancakes.
The whole affair starts hot
enough to melt butter,
steaming, and gooey with
warm, saccharine syrup.
It’s almost too sweet for
people to tolerate.
Yet the first bites are good,
deeply satisfying,
fragrant with the promise
of an unbroken day
and opportunities
myriad and unkown.
Bite after bite they go,
with enjoyment equal
to the meal’s consumption.
But the stacks wains while there
is so much day ahead.
The cakes begin to cool,
the fluffiness becomes
all too dense and soggy.
The bite change from eating
into merely chewing.
Chewing, chewing, chewing…
And still there is nothing
but pancakes left to eat.
You can whine and complain,
or you can keep at it
and go about your life
doing your best to meet
the demands of the day
working hard as you can.
Then when the day is done,
and you are exhausted
to the point that you can’t
think and can barely move,
you will remember there
are pancakes in the fridge
in a styrofoam shell—
cold, dense, sweet, and ready.
And you will remember
the wonder and beauty
that was there all along.

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