I Know Where Princess Peach Keeps Her Dish Detergent

No lie, I make the perfect
soap cake. I don’t need
a recipe—just the castle
kitchen and the princess

in papery pink, whipping
soap in her mixing bowl.
In real life it would froth,
but in this stove it browns

like batter, like cake. I keep
a save file here not because
I’m about to receive
the kingdom’s first

Michelin star but because
I’m about to fail: my informant
will spit up my soap cake.
He’ll refuse to divulge

the intel I need. He’ll ask
if I learned to cook at
Truck Driving School, then
send me back to the kitchen,

to which the game allows
no rebuke. Offscreen
my reply is laughter.
I’m sorry, Gourmet Guy,

that I bake cakes you hate,
but really they’re an ode:
thank you for reminding me
to laugh at my failures.