a side of bacon, sizzled and fried…

…on the hood of an old, orange mercury parked in the alley, half on and half off of the sidewalk. you’d swear that a man from vancouver, washington accomplished such a task. yet the breakfast fare remained unattended. 

…the eggs were bubbling. their ooey-gooey yolks, breaking free of the membrane that held them in place. yellow erupted and flowed into white. white became hard, brown, crispy. the bacon was noisy, greasy, messy…dancing and hissing wildly.


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