to have breakfast with Mark.
a Falstaffian
guy
if there ever was one.
boy oh boy
can he stuff
himself with pancakes,
and eggs,
bacon
and toast.
i love
how he puts it away
and tells
the waitress
to bring him more.
he doesn't care
about his weight.
about death
and disease.
about carbs and sugar,
what he weighs.
he's free.
i like the way maple syrup
drips on his
beard,
the way sausage links stick
to his sleeve,
he's a joy to be with,
i'm so glad he's nothing
like me.
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