Metaphor # 12 by Cassandra Natualle

I don't even remember what we had
for breakfast. I think it was a cupcake
and something with bacon that tasted bad,
it isn't clear to me why they would make

something so nasty for us to eat, like
they don't even give a shit about us,
after brunch I rode around with my bike
in the rain  underneath a highway truss,

splashing water and mud over every
place, my pants, shirt, and jacket are muddy
lost in the moment in a reverie
where I was a scientist who'd study

the splashes and splatters of water and
mud, sweaty like a member of a band.

"I Don't Even Remember" by Kenneth Larot Yamat

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