The black Mercedes with the Ayn Rand vanity plate crashed through the glass bus stop and came to rest among a bakery’s upturned tables. In the stunned silence, fat pigeons descended to the wreckage and pecked at the scattered bread and cake. The driver slept, head to the wheel. The pigeons grew rich with crumbs. The broken glass winked. God grinned.
Copyright @ 2014 by Kevin Prufer. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on May 5, 2014.
For breakfast a man must break an egg. Then not all the king's horses and all the king's men can do very much about it.
Past perfect the broken egg no longer breaks, a dead man no longer dies...
And as he spills the broken egg into a frying pan he murmurs, Ah, well, too bad about Humpty Dumpty...
From See Jack by Russell Edson. Copyright © 2009 by Russell Edson. Used by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press. All rights reserved.