the glossy centerfold

starving

at seven a.m.,

i stare at the menu

lying flat on the table.

my eyes fixed

on a stack

of pancakes,

with syrup and strawberries

stacked on top,

whipped cream

and butter.

two eggs on the side,

and bacon.

i loosen my belt as the waitress

approaches.

she dabs

at the drool on my lips

with a napkin,

then pats me on the head.

you'll have the number

four,

i see, she says,

pointing

at what i'm staring at.

the glossy

centerfold of breakfast food.

yes. i tell her.

of course.