the patience of weeds, bushes, and fungi
form the background hum of my morning routine
which boils down to making breakfast for the queen
who spends her life trying to make babies

a serial killer friend of mine is good with the ladies
we have much to learn from each other's ways
he about genuine affection, i about abandoning tortured prey
while the plants keep defying harbored fantasies of the botanists

i made up that last part about the friend of mine
sadly i don't know anyone eccentric enough to murder in numbers
but i try to get out shopping for food late at night, when the city kicks off the covers
and the beasts of burden crawl out to feed in the produce section