Cookies

When I get depressed sometimes
I bake cookies all day and all night
Snickerdoodles, chocolate crinkles
Almond, whatever the kind with the Hershey kiss is

It's one of the few things
That gives me a sense of accomplishment
With a clear beginning and a clear end
And if I fuck up
Well I just put the next batch in

When I fly home for Christmas
I bake cookies with my mom
It's one of the few things we can do together
Without needing to speak much
About her ailing father
Or New Jersey
Or my smoking habit
Or my tendency to leave

She always says I undercook them
And that I'll get sick from eating the batter

I always say
Mom that's okay
I'll take my chances

And she laughs and she eats the batter too



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