Five minutes this morning

waiting with the other
turtles in their shells in the dark
in the cold of morning
to tarry as rabbit feet
arrived too soon
or just early enough

I, the eater watch
the texter, the smoker
and the makeup artist
carry on as we tarry
in the dark cold of morning

the texter's face
illuminated blue behind
a window glass and
maybe texting or
something else entirely
which may destroy
her name entirely

the smoker holds
her smoke at arm's length
that juts out a down
window glass and
mimics the shell she
tarries in as it puffs smoke
out its backside

the makeup artist
busies herself with
brushing her blush
with a swift blush brush
in the light of vanity
and her own looking glass
behind a window glass
for an absent audience

I, the eater savor spice
from the sausage buried
amidst an egg I ponder
what precisely is made of
and cheese of which I
question the same
and timidly sip the
boiled brew to open my eyes

first the texter departs
followed by the makeup artist
with I not far behind
while the smoker tarried
still on her break I suppose