forking a piece of cake
into my mouth hole,
while absent mindedly
finishing Mulholland Drive.
falling asleep on the couch
while watching The Great British Bake Off,
looking forward to sweet dreams
of times when this is behind me,
looking back on the nightmares
I need to leave behind.
brushing my teeth
with hot water,
staring in the mirror at my chest:
the port is on my right, your left,
and the surgery scar goes from
the xiphoid process to my pubes.
when I am eating cake
and watching a movie
or farting around on my phone
at least I am not thinking
about death.