Saturday, September 03, 2011
The Breakfast Cook
catapults from low
apartments at 4AM.
They tick away darkly even
as the Harley's roar subsides.
What does he think, bent o-
ver the headlight? That he
despises the manager,
a self-proclaimed wit?
One day he arrives,
not, save at a thick
tree, and the hated being
shapes his ingenuity to flip
the popping eggs and steaming
pancakes on the grill. Next day
the agency sends an equal.
