Oh, how the world
it jostles itself in to order
one way or the other

or that’s the way it seems
hit every red light once
and tell me different.
Hit every green and tell me
the same.

Like the time that you
made two pies and
ett the second one first
and then you realized
that the first one needed
to bake a bit longer.

You narrowly avoided food-
bourne disease that time,
too.

And now all your friends are over
and just raring for
a slice,
or two,
And you ett your fill already
so there’s plenty, anyway.

Funny how things work out
Or that’s the way it seems,
anyway. Bake a pie
and tell me different.