Mito M. Boy

I gave mom a bite of cookie

I gave mom a bite of cookie.
It was an immediate disaster.
How many places can a cookie go besides the mouth?
Ask my mother. No, ask me.

As she guided it to her lips,
the precious tidbit
was crushed too tight. Faster than the speed of light,
crumbs fell upon her blouse. And pants.

And, I spied upon that shirt
dusted with crumbs,
one chocolated escapee glaring back at me.
And, on the floor, there was more.

She wiped her mouth with the
compacted remains of a tissue.
Much too small to do the job, yet undaunted, and voila:
Chocolate Chip Lipstick.

Ah, and on those fumbling fingers
in cahoots with cookie demise
uncaring and unaware, more chip smears appear.
Cookie and mom conspire against me.

And what I want to know is:
did any cookie arrive at the destination?