Untitled (fool's cliché)
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I’m about ten or so in, I guess;
the remaining ova being the most precious their creamy shells not fully developed after some slight but definite trauma the hen went through prior to laying those which I have cached in hopes of preservation. In reality they are yours but you don’t know that. See - I know how much you love fried eggs and while I want to know I know better I’m just not quite sure that this pork belly is enough and that you don't need two fried eggs on top to make it complete. Unless, of course, we’ve bought those eggs together (gathered them someday, with fresh killed bacon on the side) and I get to dip my barley in your yolk dripping down my chin because I’m messy and you kiss it off of me and say delicious. |