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!”