At nine, we shared a bagel: toastered, buttered,
Inserted in a sack and carried back
(By car) direct to work. It crowns the cluttered
Plateau -- a greasy mesa's bivouac
Discharging dairied sourdough intent;
A dribble, then a stain -- the oily kiss
Imprints on yesterday's affairs. For Lent,
Matilda gave up camping, so she'll miss
The roundup: yellowed notes with see-through marks,
The soldiers thumbing through them, all while M
REs, like cowboys aiming their remarks
(Unsafetied) down into our gorge, condemn
The eater -- Tora, tora, tora! -- sink
The Arizona tea, and chew, don't think.
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