In the water left from the waitress' rag,
I made James' face:
pinched salt for the scar
below the eyebrow,
a fleck of pepper for a freckle,
bent straw for the bridge of the nose.
The trouble with my over-easy eggs
was their thin skins broke
with a touch of a butter knife.
The trouble with my coffee
was it took the cream and changed.
The trouble with me is I can arrange
three words however I please: this
It isn't this.
Isn't it this?
Isn't this it?