By Bailey
An open bag, crisp and salty:
The curvature of your body, magic.
I’m ever so hungry, dear,
I live, long for each bite.
Yeah, I’m eating Sunchips for breakfast. Which happens when you wake up twenty minutes before your shift starts at work. Whatever, Sunchips are delicious.
Tags: breakfast, food, late, sunchips, time, weirdly sexual
This entry was posted on July 13, 2009 at 5:21 pm and is filed under poetry, post-it. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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