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It’s times like this that I wish
I was an anteater. I wish I had a tongue
the length of my arm and a tenth as wide to dip
into every crevice, every cranny and crack of
the blue plastic yogurt container before me.
My spoon can only catch so much of the rich sweet pink
“traditional greek” that’s hiding out of reach and this
pathetic dollar store tool is failing me.

I wish I could bury my face into the
blue plastic yogurt container before me, suddenly morph
into the sort of beast that would have
better luck clearing this cup than me,
but that would be rude. I would have to wash my face
and I am already late for school.



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