Breakfast is what I decide it should be.
Also when: If I’m feeding on flapjacks at three
Or a rasher of bacon at seven at night
It’s still breakfast.
I made it.
I ate it.
I’m right.

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The Elephant Shrew

The Elephant Shrew
Is much smaller than you
Although if you should spy it
He’ll try to deny it.

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Black Tie Optional

The portly fellow in the hall
Is avian, not man at all;
The couple on the plastic chairs
Beside the pool are grizzly bears.
The “people” in the parlor? Fakes.
Check out their scaly skin. They’re snakes!
You wouldn’t have to toss a lot
Of nuts to nail an ocelot
Or lemur in the small salon.
I don’t know quite what’s going on
Or why these nonanthropic folk
Are in my home. If it’s a joke
It seems impractical at best.
Perhaps some kind of social test
Assessing my abilities
To place a motley crowd at ease?
I’m failing that exam, if so:
There’s no one here I’d care to know
More intimately. When they leave
I’ll not be taking time to grieve.
Instead, I plan to just erase
All memory of every face.
No, wait, there’s one I’d like to meet:
That woman with the fin-like feet
And long, blonde hair. It’s hard to tell,
I think her breast may be a shell?
At any rate, she has the look
Of someone who enjoys a book
Or music on a quiet day.
Perhaps I’ll ask if she can stay.

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Feels Like I’m Stalling

I ought to be running.
The plan in my phone
Says I ought to be running,
Not writing alone
On the sofa, inertially
Biding my time
With procrastinatactile
Inaction in rhyme.

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Seven Up

Seven is the number that
I reach for at each dropped hat
And it bothers me to quit
Before I count up to it.
Iambs are not seven’s friend
But this poem still can end

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The Afterbath

El Niño takes the beach by force.
The war fog lifts. What’s left? A horse.
First question: Did the rider fall?
And two: Is Aquaman that small?

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So Sous Me

I button the cat in her jacket
And straighten her wee little tocque.
She calls for an egg and I crack it.
It’s breakfast. Let’s feed these fine folk!

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