I cook omelettes that look like homeland,
Turkey ham on burners that are red again.
Morning eggs stayed yellow as they should,
In my pan they tanned black as they could!
My pockets remind me how far green can be,
Land so serene in these dreams I see.
I’m in a country of right wings and leftists,
But on that day I ate a continent for breakfast.
My silver spatula felt like gold,
And I was fed from my stomach to my soul.
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