Brunch

Words
fill up your mouth
like soggy
day old
corn flakes
and plug up my ears
like gooey
mushy
oatmeal
and your mouth
and my ears
are so full of rancid breakfast food
neither of us,
in striped pyjamas,
realize
that the words are rotten too
the milky lies we can’t eat through.
Not a flake
falls from your sloppy mouth.
My elephant ears
are so stuffed
with Quaker Instant brand
that I don’t understand
the mouthful
until my eardrums
are so blocked off
I can’t hear anything
anymore.