She hands me the bowl,
Her long fingers still stained
From slicing the contents,
A breakfast of champions
I think, as I settle
Side by side with her
On the couch,
Me feeling as I felt
Back at the diner,
Too nervous to eat,
Too attracted,
Feeling her heat
Her breath,
The intense scent
Of her perfume
I am a smoldering volcano,
Doing my best to keep
From erupting,
My fingers aching to touch
Places only my mind has been,
She too distant
On this painfully sunny day,
Sending me away,
Unsatisfied,
The way I must have
When I kissed her
And went away,
Going back down those long
Fights of stairs to the street
And the dazed walk,
Sober, but not sober,
Drunk on something other
Than wine,
Eggs and greens
A breakfast of champions
A tale told by an idiot
Or perhaps Dr. Seuss
My insides rumbling,
Empty,
But not from hunger.
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