Milk drips drips from my wet forehead,

As if I was a milk carton that bled.

Rye bread crumbs tackled my left eye,

I exhale curly pasta as I sigh.

A kernel falls out of my right-side nose,

Joins the other ones on my moistened clothes.

A salad chandelier on my rightern ear,

Glistens with a shiny caesar dressing tear.

My lids open slowly, heavy with bread,

Opposite me, a face of dread.

My friend in an after-sneeze shock,

Over his lunch, a frozen gawk.

“Could I maybe have a tissue please?

To wipe off this here, cheekiest cheese.”

Wipety wipe in total hush,

While my friend is lowering on his tush,

Waiting for what I will say or do,

Thinking in secret “I should’ve flew.”

I take a breath and inhale a pea,

Can’t help smiling, say with glee.

“I think you really should eat less meat,

Or cheese or milk, this tastes like feet!”


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