Virtue of Gluttony, #59

Full though my belly may be,
I still wander, moth to flame,
freshman to fraternal kegs
testing the limits of blood,
young and thin, good to imbibe
nine, ten, twenty shots a night.
I, with fork lifts of rice, pay
no attention, dig into
every carton of take-out.

Filled with spices and sauces,
inundated with a cold
fusion of chicken, pork in
three flavors, beef and egg, the
young of Old MacDonald’s farm
near the edge of what barn doors
inhibit. The rumble of,
“No more,” the threats and pleading.
Even that moth hangs away

from the flame, our freshman friend
intoxicated, sleeps all
Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
(though he returns next weekend).
You, in the mirror, made of
nothing but Asian spices,
immigrant cells, DNA,
nano faux Chinese mall food,
every small strand accented.

Filled as I am, though devoid
inside of will, the hope to
fight and chance to overcome
the battle of the bulge. My
young friend, drunk again, consumes
nothing but jello shots placed
inside the tattooed belly,
nude lunch of a sister pledge
endowed with great muscled abs.

First we must get dry, myself
imbibing one less rice bowl,
frosh one less tequila shot
this and each week, till the mall
yawns, the liquor store snores, till
neither of us lose weekends
in stupors of fat, lazy
nether dreaming. One day soon
even the smell of chicken,

first whiff of Cuervo might just
ignite a gag reflex, set
flame to brain cells, memory’s
tendency to make all things
young again, make each flavor
new, cede ultimate control.
I, no more eating rice bowls,
no more spiced chicken, beef, pork
(even the sauce pushed aside).

This spring, his graduation,
innocent passing, slowing
metabolism. He’ll work
each weekend selling clothing,
spend his lunch choosing Chinese.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s