I can live like the chicken, coop or not.
Boil my own eggs, jammy inside.
City's falling sky, roof-proof coop in doubt
what you can see with your eyes. Hold on,
chickening out? What heart yells, do. Boil eggs
until they're hard if that's what you feel like. Or don't.
In shell-safety days, we eat in masked plates
and shallow bowls. Today is yesterday with
or without time's toll, jerked to halt with jolt
of fear. Pain is not cracking fast enough.
Once it does, there's no reverie. We'll walk
through memory like chicks, just hatched.
To lay an egg... past's present in future
Small breakfast, close quarters, less purposeful