the glory of a paper plate
sticking to the kitchen counter
boldly daring to conquer fate
to make its brief existence louder

i knew a girl once like that
sorry fool feared the common awkward pause
would fiddle with her words and nonexistent fat
tried to kill herself, i think i know the cause

it turns out i still imagine her naked
when i wait for the morning egg to boil
at the time i had no smile, but i faked it
a lot of good that did, judging by my kitchen's perpetual turmoil