I sit here eating a bagel. Wondering how many calories are in cream cheese. My eyes are 360 on this pedestal surrounded by books and humanity. I see a man pick up a bible He seems lost in his contemplating Does he believe? Will he believe? It doesn't matter to me. I'm happy with this bagel. I'm satisfied by simplicity.
Hot and fresh Steam exposed Center when The crisp shell Is hand cracked Or gently sliced Lox, cream cheese, Butter or jam Sides of bacon, Sausage or egg Adorn the soft Middle in Sandwich form From Poland to N. Y. With all your Varieties, you truly Hold your own.
bagels.
Author: Allen Robinson
0
Date: 03/03/2019
№ 708286
Also the Smell of Bagels
Blades of grass collecting crusted mud beside the train tracks Of the downtown transit Remind me fast of how much traffic we passed on foot paths Through both the Summer and Fall
If you don't recall, it was a lot of traffic. Better call sometime because if you don't then I won't.
Loose change falling from a palm into a used cup becomes Your swinging wallet chain Regardless the fact there's barely a reason for rerun I find similarity
Enough to see the lies of your lines Between those of some clean, plate glass windows
If I could I'd probably Try to see If you wanted to accompany me, To an innocent breakfast. "I like my bagels toasted, With thick cream cheese In the middle please. " But to be honest, I don't know that I wouldn't want more Than just an innocent breakfast sandwich. "Also, can you add chocolate syrup To that iced coffee? Strange, but it's how I want it, please. " I'd look over my bagel To see if you were enjoying your croissant, And possibly try to Get you to sip my coffee. All the while staring heavily at your lips; All the while I would silently beg for you to Hold on to me like you do that French pastry. All the while wishing you would look at me The same way as my bagel & coffee Are looking at me now. "One more thing, Could I get some napkins And a straw please? Thank you. " But I know It would never be Innocent breakfast Because I will always Want more.
When the walls started closing in And my brain turned to syrup I slid down into a stupor My mother makes me strawberry/mango Italian soda The sluggishness liquefies My brain becomes active The bubbles floating my thoughts to the top. When my vision is narrowed And the fire is lit within Burning the inside's out Pass me some of that pop And its the little things that matter
Observant servant to the soul Not even owning your own body Glitch glitch glitch All over my face Can't say a word without a fight Stuck in my head, can't get out Maybe if I keep talking the words Will sometimes maybe came come from my mouth
My thoughts suffocating me My head aches Please please no more I want to step out Looking outside the bagel shop Calmed my mind
You can focus freestyle on a tightrope for the last mile but you can't balance on the tips of your little fingers, an interesting observation of no visible value, I make it anyway
And making it any way is if anything something.
These are the days when 20th Century Fox couldn't be bothered to update their name so what chance do we have?
Rerunning shotguns to undercut the current trend of hand held mayhem, it's a blast if nothing else.
I'm fighting inertia with a dame nicknamed Porsche or it could be a light headed moment Whatever!
Did you guess it was Sunday or were the visions in your way and was the lady from Harlem still on your mind?
Pixies or pixels we dance through this star storm until the music arrives at the end.
I got old yesterday and if I let it It will get in the way
I think old is the new candy floss Tripping up to be whipped up into A high chair A bib and some tucker (and here fucker would rhyme) But I'm a sucker for politeness So I tighten the belt on my language And don't use fucker at all.
You'll either read or dismiss this And it won't make a difference To 20th Century Fox.
