Cherry Pop-Tarts

Here I am again. Back on my porch, streetlight beamed and trying to sort out my insomnia. Sleeplessness isn’t as easy as playing cards. I’m trying to decide how much sleep I need to do what, what going to the gym at 5 a.m. actually means to me, and if I’m going to gain 3 pounds from the package of Cherry Pop-Tarts I devoured this afternoon. Heavy stuff for a Thursday night, right?

But on the subject of Cherry Pop-Tarts. They were there. Glistening in their bright blue wrapper, taunting me from the other side of the glass. Before I could know what I was doing, I slipped in the crinkled dollar bill and hit F5. Is it sad that I can recall the actual code? See, at our place of work, Cherry Pop-Tarts are a rarity. Of course, there are always the obligatory Brown Sugar Whatevers and the Strawberry Frosted, but Cherry is like the diamond of the group; alas, it was the last one. Behind it, more Strawberry. This is important, because in that moment, I felt like they were made for me, that there was a reason I even stepped up to the vending machine that I’m pretty good at avoiding.

Now, there is a professor I had once, a poet, and she did a remarkable job portraying the Cherry Pop-Tart—a sort of vulnerability. And overly-romanticized (by me) or not, the treat itself is worthy of an awesome poem.

As it stands, there is more to worry about than Pop-Tarts at this hour, but I’m fixated and that’s what I do (instead of analyze Real Issues.)

My first day of teaching is coming up here on Tuesday. I’ve spent a few hours babbling to myself in the car on various short drives, so I feel like I’m ready for the big leagues. Hahaha… really. I’ve thought about holding a phone to my ear, but felt that would really taint the whole experience.

Happy Friday (early) and Weekend. I get to see my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew tomorrow. So I’m on top of the world, you know? (: