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contact Jeremy
contact Ellen
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A gluttonous breakfast in my country of cities --
my mouth is full of bacon, potatoes, cream cheese, eggs;
my spectral countrymen shuffle by outside,
the sidewalk's getting crowded --
I'm eating breakfast in my country of dreams,
where you're sitting across the table,
asking me to pay attention;
I mumble through the sausage that of course I'm listening
and try to figure out what I'm doing wrong
as you talk about your plans for the day, I'm missing more and more,
and when you ask what time I'll be home,
I want to respond but my mouth is full of breakfast
and the sidewalk is full of colorful shadows
and glittering machines;
I pile our dishes in the sink and we drift out
into the crowd.
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