Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Breakfast All Day

kissed awake by warm 
dawn of May—morning
smells;
of coffee, lingering 
coconut 
mingled in the sticky 
dark kitchen—shy crack of 
feeble 
eggshells and stale 
idea of almond
maple
butter motivating glands to wet
soft action—

later, on the hot 
road; gnarled 
pavement cooks sunnyside—bitter 
hot 
smell of burnt 
rubber, fried, smothered in acrid 
jam 
of lumpish traffic—

but it's no matter; somehow 
I still feel ticked—alive,
egged-on
by 
the same kind burn
—called hunger!

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