Baked Alaska

'Would you like one last wish before you die?' 'Yes, I'd like a baked neapolitan alaska please, then maybe a coffee, cognac and a smoke, I might even squeeze in a liqueur and rum and coke.' All these culinary pursuits take different routes, like playing a game, arranging your cards in suits; but to think of your last supper, no more cereal, must be strange, unthinkable and surreal. I was blindfolded, tasted the meringue, ooohh, it slipped down, sweetness on my lips. so very slow, brandy burnt my throat, after-taste reminded me of afterlife, what had I done wrong, smoking, thinking of trouble and strife. It was no good, after indulgence, knew I had to leave, 'Mr. Andrew, good news, I'm pleased to say that you've been given a reprieve.'