- for Theresa, as an afterthought to a conversation on middle-age weight gain -
I’m waging a war on my gut today
and trying to lose some weight.
To shed superfluous bodily clay -
this ballast, this frickin’ freight –
I’ll swallow breath only, I’ll fast, I’ll pray;
I’ll turn to another state.
Could be you’ll notice, next June or May,
I’m as slim as my empty plate.
When you see me, you’ll gasp, “He’s a straw of hay!”
And I’ll say, “Call it fate!”
I’ll pat my flattened belly and bray,
“At least now I’m standing up straight!”
But these are all plans for the morrow, nay?
My belly can still be great
for a few more hours of eat, drink, and play.
Yes, gluttony is innate…
what causes it, that is to say;
for we all bear some excessive trait
that sometimes makes us fall, lapse, or stray
from the best of ourselves to date.
We’ll recover on some latter day,
all the better to procreate!
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