Bagel Breath

724, I open the door

Crawl in your bed, stick my head

Through the storm window

Spitting crumbs

Into your backpack

You dump them out

The old sour patch

I like it stuck to my skin

Dried and vacuumed

Bagel breath in the morning

Borrow my toothbrush

Even scrape your tongue

Nothing gets past

The old sour patch