Will it all to me/ Quiche of the Day.

“She is gorgeous,
god bless…”

Fun times with a round face that smacks itself

close relatives are
all nose and cheeks breaking into a slice of moon faced pie
(have this coin in nest of proud chins)

Her-s is some kind of sunny side up quiche: mine simply
torte. A retort. A crust.

Some sweet, angry tart fruit: small window to ripen to bliss. Blue shadows smile out in burr season:
but butted chins part amicably:

hungry but full of different pies and piss.

Hold her meringue in my shaking hands and say:
so soft
so “eggy perked”
so white
sugar used to squeeze height out of it all and

I’m whipping mine into rolling waves and obliques
look at what a shape this is:
a circle to live in!
(and a box
to break.)

How fun it is not to explain a GODDAMN THING,
(try, stop. punnet chins.)
She: married, Me:
United.