The Man Who Knew One Thing by Gene Goldfarb
Realized his house was not level
when he cooked his sunny-side up eggs
their yolks staring back at him sadly
together from one side of the pan,
as if he’d betrayed them in the last
four and-a-half minutes of their
cardboard-protected lives as they
would soon become him and join
that larger amalgam of being.
Gene Goldfarb now lives in New York City. His loves are reading fiction and non-fiction, writing poetry and prose, movies of all kind, international cuisine, and travel. His poetry has appeared in Black Fox, Sheila-Na-Gig, Green Briar, Red Eft, The Daily Drunk, Trouvaille and elsewhere.