All American Breakfast

You poured a bowl
of fireworks for breakfast.

This diet explains
your star spangled disposition.

Your glorious flag
leans upon your shoulder

as if seeking comfort
like a child.

In solidarity, I let you
finger paint the stars and stripes

on my left cheek
but refused to wear

an Uncle Sam suit
to visit your homing pigeon roost.

I checked the freshness date
of your boxed pyrotechnics

and found the red
had an earlier expiration

than either the white
or the blue.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

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