I wash my hands before my reflection,
but I do not look up from the basin
to see if it's really there.

The white bowl (my secret keeper),
I kneel before it with a voice that says,
"How can you do this?"
while it will remind me everyday
that I walk past it and sit on it.

I swivel my tongue around;
my saliva still reminiscent of Edy's.
Only the cold silver spoon knew how
often I
visited and borrowed from his
Double Fudge Brownie.

The smooth, cool chocolate ice cream,
the slippery fudge jelly,
like a still black river,
and velvety covert chunks of chewy brownie.

A ravishing recipe out to disfigure the body,
but enchant the tongue
to engage in an overload of dreamland's delight.

With one hand gripping the slippery white base,
I curled up four fingers and pointed
an unsteady finger at my motionless face.

My mouth opened;
I kept an eye on the light bulb
stationed over the escape tunnel,
amongst the swiveling water.
(It was a good spot to aim for.)

I summoned the ice cream once again,
with a strong press down
on the back of my bumpy tongue.

My belly jerked:
the feeling you get when a park ride starts out high,
but plunges you deep at unbelieveable speeds,
leaving your stomach at the place
where you first began.

The noise from my throat
sounds like a child
making playful "ah's"
into a drinking glass.

Then, the nauseating mix:
chocolate, stomach acid, and broccoli.
A glob cames forth,
slapping the peacful water;
causing a few light splashes.

My eyes tear,
and the results are watery.
(not completely successful)

I reach to place my finger back into my foul mouth,
but see that it has been spoiled
with brown slime and green specs.

I get up quickly to cover my stupid secret
with a spray of lemon
and a flush.

I wash my hands,
but I still cannot look in the mirror,
to the self that is still thinking,
"How could you?"