Sugar Pie

I’m swapping the slices of a huge sugar pie.

Uniformly menaced slices.

Proportionately cremated on each side.

I swap them today, then the day before tomorrow.

Each time trying to replace it with a larger slice.

An impossible itinerary to a much bigger outcome.

I look outside.

A white-caped lamp post heading north-west,

Accompanied by a plethora of flies.

Like, I chased you out of your chaos

My city! Except there was no light in me.

I look outside. Again.

I see lights blinking outside a window.

Reds, like the avalanche of warm lust.

Blues, like country songs.

I went out to swap these two,

The flies and the lights.

I traded them off with my mind’s eyes.

Deliberate abstraction proved to be absolute,

Unlike the pie; and I’m rich from the inside.