Breakfast for champions

Empty frypan
No food in there
Dirty kitchen dust and hair
Phone rings and my friend wrong number answers

We talk of philosophy bigotry
and the symmetry of the demons people elect.
The tone of hanging up starts sounding
like robots having sex.

I look out the window as if I´ve accomplished something grand
look down and catch myself holding hands
the fridge turns on like lorry changing gear
I eat nothing for breakfast in my underwear.