Monday, August 17, 2015

20150817 (for Chris McLaughlin and Jeff Smith)

This is about the least judgmental image I could find and most descriptive
of my condition.


















Yesterday a friend told me

It looks like I’m losing weight

Already a dear friend of many years

He was not sucking up perhaps

Thinking to compliment me

Encourage me along a good direction

I self-effacingly offered what was

Lost from my face had merely

Relocated a few feet down

On my gravidic center the scale

Which fails to disclose any losses

Doesn’t have a register to say

You’re more compact denser 

Like a box of rocks shaken 

So one could add more dirt

Fat clothes are those you preserve

To serve on the day when 

Unpredictable growth occurs

One must wear something

Till the swelling goes down

Middle clothes are those you use

Once the inflammation relents

Unfortunately they lead one to think

The process will continue on its own

And that’s when the fat clothes

Take up the slacks so to speak

Thin clothes are what other people wear

A friend of one of my sons in youth

Is a promoter believer enthusiast for

An exercise program with guided eating

He’s dramatically svelte as the numerous

Facebook photos assert and I’m happy

He’s young and active enough

To take on a regimen that keeps him buff

Taut presentable while septuagenarians

Like me tire from nodding yes

It’s remarkable how sculpted he looks

Our teeth grinding jealously I can’t

Imagine my hopping jabbing poking

For the time the full plan requires

Without exhausting myself

Thinking about it

Somedays I’m happy just to get out of bed

Feed my critters let them out

To relieve themselves while 

I go back to bed exercise plans

Full of squats jumps leaps thrusts

Are like thin clothes

For somebody else



c. J.S.Manista, 2015

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