Today love is like scrambled eggs
meant to be hard-boiled
supposed to be hard-shelled
softer a layer under…
and a heart of green and yellow mush.
We were meant to be over-easy
two identities on the same plate
gorgeous, bright yellow mounds
white all around, crispy brown along the edges
individual.
But my whites are with her yolks
and vice versa—no separation
like dirty clothes
clumps of her and me together
with a shake of salt and pepper
milky
one serving, instead of two.
