In the water left from the waitress’s rag,
I made James’s 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 the touch of a butter knife.
The trouble with my coffee
was it took the cream and changed.
The trouble with me is that I can arrange
three words however I please:
This isn’t it
It isn’t this
Isn’t it this
Isn’t this it
~ Keith Leonard, Ramshackle Ode