The recipe I research online
calls for Mountain Dew
(or Mello Yello, if one prefers)
and I’m curious if it becomes
a lemon tea with a reservoir
of sugar in it. What happens
to the bubbles? Do they turn
into a slime? I buy a liter
from IGA, ignite the oven to
a torrid Fahrenheit, hotter than
my usual showers that set off
the second-floor smoke alarm.
Grease and flour in the Bundt
pan, fluted and grooved and
eternally circular– my partner
wonders if I have the expertise
to do this, and I read her the
recipe, which she says is not
typical– the carbonation nor
instant pudding it calls for,
the boxed cake mix plucked
from a million others at the store.
But in a large bowl I combine
everything: the oil, the powder,
the eggs, one at a time, and stir
in the lemon-lime soda.
It has a texture like roof tar
when I tell her I don’t even
enjoy Bundt cake, I just wanted
to do something productive with
my day after being laid off.
She helps me pour the sludge
and bake until I insert a toothpick
into the center. We let it cool.

(originally published in Sybil Journal, Summer 2023)