Ingredients for 6-8 people
• 4 egg whites
• 2 egg yolks
• 100 g (1/2 cup) of sugar or 5 tablespoons of fruit sugar (alter to your own preference)
• 500 g (2 1/2 cups) of mascarpone cheese
• 4 small coffee cups of espresso coffee
• marsala wine (or brandy or cognac)
• 400 g of savoiardi or lady fingers (sponge cake fingers)
• dark chocolate powder
Preparation
1. Make espresso coffee, sweeten, and add the marsala wine (or cognac) to it. Let it cool a bit.
2. Separate the egg yolks and the whites of two eggs in two bowls.
3. Beat sugar into the egg yolks.
4. Beat the mascarpone into the sweetened yolks.
5. Add two more egg whites to the other two and whisk until they form stiff peaks.
6. Fold gently egg whites into mascarpone mixture.
7. Quickly dip both sides of the ladyfingers in the espresso mixture.
8. Layer soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone in a large bowl or pan (start with fingers, finish with mascarpone).
9. Sprinkle dark chocolate powder on top.
10. Refrigerate for one hour.

His words tangle tightly in my brain
and ring fire in my soul,
just like an old-timey ballad  
spinning in the background, dusty on my stereo

That jet black hair keeps me weak in my knees,
voice as strong as our morning coffee,
Whispering my name
with sweet lines that remind me, I'm here for a reason.

And that reason will always be my home sweet home

we are the champion kids,
mean starry-eyed gangster babies,
fresh from the trailer park;
soaking up diamanté danger
in glittering pink sequin bikinis
and rhinestone cowboy hats.
sunset swinging boricua gold hips,
robbers dripping virginal deceit as
'nilla ice cream coats fruit punch lips,
sighing softly under neon moonlight
as we stumble through camelot,
drunk off the fumes of the city.

hollywood heavenly stars light up
our flesh and the fake palm trees
at the 76, a true downriver delight.
degenerate beauty queens beaten blue
by cinema kings craving insanity
and perfection in sweet cocaina lines,
selling our souls to weekly devils
for a big shot of treasure trove ***.

chain-smoking cigarettes because he
called me his pretty little gangster baby;
lazily watching him fly through traffic,
i love his rollercoaster disco mind.
falling in and falling out of the world,
floating across the sparkling nebulae
as he waves his pistol and blue paper
in my face, hoping i'll awaken from
dope saturated celluloid dreams.
praying my baby will come back to me
from the crackhouse down the street;
she smiles to the world, but i can see
the tear stains on her golden cheeks.

it wasn’t on purpose.

you were sitting there on the hill
so peacefully.
the gentle breeze convincing me that i
needed to accompany you.
you were examining the small stack of papers that
you saved from your therapy sessions.
i walked over and you heard my steps, tried to be subtle but eh.
you had your nilla cookies and a snapple..
it was simple..
you eventually got a brownie and another snapple for us to share.

if you take a bite out of this brownie, we can consider this a date

and with no words
you took a bite.

When I was younger,
I had a friend.
He'd come to my door every so often
And bring me a granola bar
And ask me if I wanted to play.
I'd go to his house
And watch him play video games
While I ate Nilla Wafers
And Slim Jims,
And smiled.
We hid under a blanket,
And he told me he liked me,
I think he wanted to kiss me,
But I didn't do it.
I had popular friends,
And he was considered uncool,
A dorky, weird boy,
With very little filter
On what he wanted to say.
He was fun for me.
We found a knife in his backyard,
And joked about killer ghosts,
And once, he put his arm around me.
I reacted weirdly, and pushed it off,
But I remember him fondly.