Ten guests for breakfast
all wearing jeans and sweaters.
Blue, golden, yellow.
Wakey, wakey,
eggs and bakey.
One intruder
showering in the dark,
rejecting the mimosa kiss,
not raising the bar.
She's not awake yet.
She crawls, she moans.
She gives away a pork smile.
She chucks on a piece of toast.
Ten greasy dishes,
ten sticky grins.
Another eggy morning.
Wakey, wakey,
eggs and bakey.
A
