Brunch

Brunch is my thanksgiving, my bacchanal.

It is a lovely occasion to be able to lie in,

and still convince your friends that you have your life the most together.

To host such a frivolous mid-morning romp Pouring the mead homebrewed in your neighbor's pantry,

With the local bees conspiring with local flowers, admiring their work on the psyches

of the local apiarian caretakers.

You soak challah bread in milk and sugar

Because one guest is kosher

and knows how you really pronounce challah.

I excuse myself to powder my nose, so to speak

Hair pomade mixing with a spritz of spice. If we are all to gather on the sofa, singing

I must have an air of peppermint and expense, For the girl who's seen me cry in full drag, And still calls me handsome.