Geometry for Breakfast

At seven A.M., we face opposite walls

Our feet hook together at the ankles.

I stare toward the front and eat my fingernails

which do not satisfy me.

            A line, a day.

In line, I order bagels—

you know, how all-over blue

blueberry bagels are? You like them.

They are bought, and until I am done eating, I wait.

Just chewing, waiting,

waiting to leave.

Me and my bike tires, we are not full.

We are soft.

We are slow.

The coda is geese—V. Sound it out.

            A line—a radius, center to edge, a horizon,

            what comes before a corner is enough.