Running my fingertips
Over the flat contours
Of my stomach,
I realize that I can sell the rest of my eggs
To a charity.
They could be used to feed the homeless.
They could hatch.
They could be made into the best omelet anyone has ever had ever.
They could be smashed into the side of a house on mischief night
Pink and red yolk oozing down the tawny siding.
I would use the money to pay off student loans.
I would use the money to go to the movies with someone on a date because I can afford it.
I would use the money to sleep in.
I would use the money to realize that there really are different land masses on the other sides of the oceans.
I would use the money to sharpen my canines so I can puncture skin with ease.
Cause I’m fucking wild, man.
But not wild enough to get on reality tv.
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