She keeps her pretty laminated
recipe cards pristinely stacked upright
and ordered inside boxes that are
in turn organized by ethnicity.
Some do try to defy her too
categorical mind. These end up
alphabetized without a grin and put
within an apologetic little
catchall that, collections completed,
she'll not visit willingly again.
Each ensuing night, fingers spiral
down dimples stamped on a cardboard-cutout
globe she leaves standing on her marbled
granite slab of a counter. One place
chosen from among those she's never been,
she lifts the hunter-green translucent
lid of its corresponding container
and pulls out a single card that her eyes
feast on, ticking off precise measures
in the savory worded list.
Sated so, she pours big bowls of cold
cereal thickly coated. She doesn't like