E.T.

Two UFOs land on my plate
a homemade Everything spice bagel,
sawn in half atop an acacia carving board,
then toasted until steamy and craggy
spread with full-fat Philly cream cheese
— the only acceptable option —
and then sprinkled with additional hand-tossed E.T. spice.

Looking up at me with their googly monster eyes,
my lemuresque breakfast will be a memorable one.

A pyramidal crystal of salt
weighs down a wave of schmear,
teasing: "Eat Me First."

I take a hearty, un-Instagrammable bite
and I chew through the boiled-then-baked bagel skin
and mash my molars deep into the spongy inner bagel marrow.
I savor the spicy oils and crunch of cracked Tellicherry peppercorns;
My front teeth skate along the smooth snowbanks of Philadelphia's best.

At last, my teeth make contact
with the fourth pyramid of Giza:
an epic formation of Maldon sea salt.

I crunch-crunch my way through fields of fennel,
and sheer wisps of air-dried shallot.
Toasted sesames lodge in my gum line;
poppy and nigella seeds soonfollow suit.

My breakfast is in 4-D; I feel it all; I am this bagel.
E.T. — it really is everything.