There are crumbs in my cleavage
cracker flakes in my bra
I don’t mind
I look down, acknowledge them
shrug my shoulders
It is in my capacity to eat crumblessly
and to rid my underthings of existing crumbs
It is not, however, in my nature to bother with such
since my being is a mere collection of assorted crumbs held together
if for no other reason than God has been too lazy
to brush me away