Mister Micawber

From a Skull with Meat on it

Although it is as perfect a joy
as we can hope for —
sitting down upon the carpet
with a fresh cup of coffee
and a very nicely browned and buttered slice of toast
and finding that nothing happens to hurt,
that all our thoughts are now
as pleasantly disposed as our bones —

it is always but a moment or so
before we find
that we have lodged a bit of crust
between bicuspids
and must stir our bones and find a toothpick.