Eggs

[abu nuwas]

Just for fun.

Eggs

carried on white plates
from the sizzling fryers
behind the counter where
a black woman cooks beside
a white girl with red hair

eggs come to me
eggs go to a big man on a silver stool
drinking a mug of coffee

eggs go to the young Asian girl
poking her brother with a straw
dripping orange juice

eggs arrive white-skinned sunny
sacks of yolk and sprinkled with
black pepper

eggs fry and fill the air
as soon as you open the door
you smell them

eggs cut with the sides of forks
splitting them open to run
yellow out on the plate
their flesh on the tongue
in all mouths, his, hers,
and how good they are.

Hi!
 I have a liking for casual, conversational pieces, about ordinary, everyday things. I also like repetition.  I fancy, tho' that such poems depend on wit; or if not wit, a twist, and the longer the poem, the more it cries out for such. I waited for a twist which never came! Perhaps you might have made it a deal shorter.

As a matter of interest, where I come from, if a greasy spoon had served eggs with black pepper, the caff would have been told robustly, that they could take that ''f.....g' foreign muck'' back.