Tonight's Poet Corner: Breakfast Babe
Breakfast Babe by Belinda Roddie You serve me heartbeats on a griddle, doll, ladling out batter, waiting for it to rise to the challenge, become something far more powerful than its priot state. And as the palpitations spread, you serve them up with syrup and butter. The scrambled eggs are my battered gray matter mixed with garlic salt and hot sauce: A sheer delight on a paper plate. I demolish everything you prepare, eat everything you set in front of me: Biscuits and gravy when the gravy is grave, buttermilk when it's mixed with guilt. Now bacon, that's always a lovely touch. And of course, we can't forget the mimosas, bubbling like the drink's trying to break free. I sip citrus and champagne to ward off pain and smile. Even though I'm a hot mess, you always know how to sate my appetite and, in the morning, make me feel like my very best.