Myself

"Can I bake you a ring?"

Said the pastry's chef

to his beloved king's queen.

No reply, only a map to Noway.

I wanted to talk to him, myself, because

it looks so much prettier outsigh--

the flours, they grow out there.

You'd think he was an oven.

You'd think he had a plan.

You'd think, but you've had

just enough to drink,

young man.