Sunday, December 30, 2007


It is Christmas,

I’m getting fat,

Just want to run
and climb, jump
high into the air

But, I can’t, so
I eat.

I eat because eating makes
me feel happy,
smiles inside.

Not the painted smile
I put on my face;
but, a deep silky
pleasant smile that
starts growing,
somewhere in my stomach
then fills my chest
soaking deep into
my heart.

A warmth soothing
the slashes made by the
chards of broken ice
slicing with each beat.

I would like to be thin,

But, it is cold, empty and
my fat caresses me
warmly, always there
never departing,
comforting all through
the evening
and into the night.

I would like to feel alive,

But, I don’t
and so I eat
I eat because
I can feel the flavors
intertwining with my tongue
like lovers
entangled in ecstasy.

I would like to sit
and watch a setting sun
on a warm summers day,

But, it is cold, clouded
and dark;
so I eat,
close my eyes as the
orange glow of pumpkin
pie sinks slowly down
my esophagus resting
in a warm glow
behind my navel.

It is a large
plate of cookies
piled high,
which next I spy
when you look again
they are gone.

So ends another Christmas
with settling cookies
and pumpkin pie.

All to the accompaniment of
“Miracle on 34th Street”
playing on the TV
off in the background.

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