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