I Like My OT ScrambledA Poem by JelliFyshKissUsHow do you prefer him?"How do you like your egg?" he asks, Breath nothing more than celestial dust clouds I catch in the curve off my ear Crossing a chair between my legs I contemplate the fog... Strands of thick-cut bacon cackle Over color-coated currents That spark up fireworks behind his eyes The aroma of his features tumble In the divots of cogwebs Rolling reels on my skin Returning my afterthoughts to those infantile moments When we'd break fast to cup sun peels And blow pulped prisms through a candy cane straw He kept his liquid beams behind A sterling shell then But still insisted I play in the mist of pulverized coffee beans Where we sipped laughs with two creams no sugar Ideas forming and shattering against our teeth From placing over-toasted lightbulbs against our lips And blowing glass particles into each other's mouths Giggles clawing at our throats Over a drunken dawn trying to fix a tilted halo and crooked neck flare Never admitting the pleasures we'd gained From those warm bourbon breaths Tickling as they tease "Your egg?" he asks again. My skin dims, and my early eyes chirp Of his brightness instead His yolk much prettier when dribbling from his pores I can't help but crack his beauty against the corner Of my grin and respond, "I prefer you scrambled." © 2011 JelliFyshKissUsAuthor's Note
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Added on October 8, 2011Last Updated on October 8, 2011 Tags: Breakfast with OT, Clumsy conversations, Surreal friendship AuthorJelliFyshKissUsNashville, TNAboutI don't know why my brain cramps up whenever I'm asked to tell others about me. Maybe I'm not that interesting. Maybe I'm being modest. Who knows? I'm a married mother of none who is devoted to .. more..Writing
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