At dinner that evening, I asked a man
Who had taken three pieces of cake
One after the other
Though he paused before the last
And looked straight at me across the table
As if seeking a stranger’s approval
Then dug right in
With an almost-grunt of satisfaction
**
“What happened?” I asked him, curious,
“At that very last moment
Just before
You gave in to temptation?”
He smiled at the crumbs on his plate
Then looked at me and said:
“You tell yourself
That it won’t be that bad, not really
**
That’s what you tell yourself.
It is, after all, such a little thing
A small piece of nothing
That you’ll make up for later.”
The hungry philosopher smiled again
But sadly now, at his plate
Regretful, yes
And something else, perhaps
**
A bit of shame caused by a stranger
Who spoke
When she should have stayed quiet
And let the man enjoy his cake.
**
Dedicated to everyone who knows when to keep their mouth shut.
