Eggs scrambling from the inside.
My teeth in your cup and your teeth in mine,
Salinated, but a sea squirming between our night lamps
The moment we decided to give the sky a taste of rain
For a change. And away we go . . .
The water cycle but a suggestion nuns made
Respectfully, for visiting schoolboys of all sizes—
Should we roll backwards, feathers up,
Mother, downhill, from here.