Cold Cereal

 

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Cold cereal for breakfast is an awful way to start
a day that will require much of strength and mind and heart;
extruded by contraptions that care naught for humankind,
they snap and pop and crackle 'til you almost lose your mind.
No Frankenberry monster or buffoonish Cap'n Crunch
will tempt me to embrace them in the morning or at brunch.
If roughage I am needing I'll not stoop to chill bran flakes,
even if my bowels twist up like hibernating snakes.
Kellogs may be all right for mere infants in their bibs,
but give me something hearty that will stick right to my ribs:
An egg in all its splendor or a sausage leaking grease,
potatoes on the griddle in amounts that never cease;
Flapjacks oozing butter with Log Cabin on the side;
toast with lots of jelly and crisp bacon, long and wide.
Be gone, ye sugared crumbles and all others of your ilk!
You're nothing but dry saw dust that does spoil a bowl of milk.

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