by Chris, 18 
Monticello High School, Charlottesville, Virginia 


Orange juice kisses the glass and
Hangs there, helplessly, but doesn’t drop,

And for once my gangly frame
Unboxes some bacon and times the eggs

Perfectly, gathering the hash potatoes
From the pan like a cherished possession

And spinning around to flip the fried egg
into the pan that is already sizzling.

An underhand pass to the silverware drawer
So I can scissor the bacon in half for easier cooking

Who looks stunned and stuck to the pan
On the cooked side, trying to lose fat

And a high, gliding hand and a man
Letting the fat fry in front of him

In slow motion, like an intense action shot
Like a lousy B-movie explosion,

And then eggs are done, and racing down the pan
The way that they should, fanning out

And filling the cracks of the hash potatoes
Working together, like brothers playing a song

Between them adding a small dribble
Of yolk, a single drop hitting the hard salt

While the bacon explodes past them
In a fury, taking the flavors to a whole new level

And by myself, laying a glass gently
Against the lips, for a sip of orange juice

And it losing it’s balance in the process,
Inexplicibly falling, hitting my tongue

With a citrus burst
And this meal I love like a country

And swiveling back to see a silver fork
Floating perfectly to the plate.

Written in Response to “Fast Break” by Edward Hirsch