Ex-Lover Encounter

A drawing on a piece of wrinkled torn paper of a three-pack of Dolly Madison-brand Zingers. ‘Iced vanilla creme filled cakes’ is on the package.

Standing on line at the deli,

my eyes fall to a row of old friends:

orange cakes

their frosted faces

pressed tight on cellophane.

I no longer

imagine they’re immoral,

but looking at them

makes me feel dirty.

My mind rolls through

the highlight reel, good times

intoxicating days

before my eating disorder

consumed me.

Picking up a trio,

one-two-three

anxiety rises to my throat,

but I figure why not

the sweet trinity hits the counter.

And I’m shocked to discover

when ingested with intention,

my old go-to favorites taste like

I just took a bite

of The Simpson’s cartoon couch.