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Brunch with Cordelia

Wicked meals cost, so we’re
Not eating the bacon strips
Not ordering coffee, not
Buttering our toast
Swine so sweet
We weep over
Pancakes, those aren’t our cruel
Breasts steeping in syrup, those
Ragged muffins are not our morning kisses
Crusted and ignored
Yesterday we were poolside, dancing
Sugar canes whisking mojitos
This can’t be our eulogy
What about the quest for our
Hearts and minds?
Didn’t anyone bother sending a search party?