Poetry as an egg
10.8.04
His was an egg
Over-easy
Over-confident
Over the limit.
Set on a plate
held by burning fingers,
two ninety-nine
at the cafe down the street
Yolk scattered over flour
on the countertops
of production,
of spilling and
grilling
until
his soul was satisfied,
ready to feed
the hungry customers
their egg
over-easy
over-confident
over the limit.
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