Fat January (Draft 2)

Fat January (Draft 2)

Reindeer long gone with parties and tomfoolery
she basted sorrow to stuff year’s ridicule
into the geese and carols required; persevering

with gluttony and stuffing yuletide
she watched the fireworks
flare out in explosive desire

seems a New Year can be,
she sang to the choir, heavy
like pounding hearts teased
unattractive and fat
needing a loss

so she hired the whipping cream boy
who she found curled up in the street.

Unlike the physical trainer, he
didn’t charge her much, spouted
a little poetry and conversation, though

he just demanded to follow along
to her every breakfast,
lunch, and dinner

And upon his demand
he ate off her plate

took her desserts away
stuck his fork and knife
into her over-sized plate
as she ordered her usual indulgences
and he was so hungry to talk like a seminar
that he’d eat what food she couldn’t resist
as if it were charming morsels of thought, and
let her feel saintly to help the beggar assist

but she upgraded his wardrobe
to escort her to any dinner, and it
let her feel saintly to help the beggar assist

though actually,
she loved his words, and
his charm resolved itself into
a love of life and of her

but with a kiss
her prince of the gutter did
have a beautiful, grateful smile
when he died very fat
of a heart attack.

— Douglas Gilbert


4 thoughts on “Fat January (Draft 2)

  1. I like the three new stanzas at the beginning…it works up nicely to when she hired the whipping cream boy. Still kinda sad that he died at the end but at least he was smiling.

    1. Thanks. I remember once when I was very hungry and I heard all these stories about women who always went out to eat in restaurants and couldn’t stop themselves from eating too much… it was like an anxiety tradition of not feeling loved and always being served food instead of love, and I thought that hey, I could be a diet guru: I will eat your anxiety(what you can’t resist) and enjoy the food as a sensual experience(not as something to reduce anxiety) and you will let me converse as if chatter was more filling than calories… I could eat and she would express the cutest of all verbal dances because… [I forgot what I was going to say… so rather than erase this, I’ll let it be]

      1. It’s a great idea. All the lonely people with food addictions should be introduced to all the hungry people and it might solve (or put a dent in) world hunger. You have an open invitation for dinner if you’re ever hungry and near my house. It’s hard to cook a full balanced meal for just two and we always have leftovers that get stuck in the fridge. I’m not a master chef by any means but 99% of the food i can cook turns out pretty good.

    2. Thanks. Conversation of the heart is so delicious that a bread crumb of a smile coats so well the cutlet of the breast of kindness that it doesn’t matter if its sweet or sour, breaded, bare, or a future recipe that is dipped in an egg wash that sticks things together so that life is crispy and crunchy and set on a metaphor platter that is cool. Blowing on things from the oven is an exercise in not burning the palate whatever that might be. Love is so tasty that it requires no bread; it rises from a fermentation of understanding, but isn’t it wonderful when flour is plentiful and….. Ok, I don’t know what I’m saying but it seemed like an interesting line of inquiry… Everything tastes great over conversation and I could bring a spice that I’ve saved for special occasions. Such a meal is more golden than sunrise because it’s not exactly orange but rainbowsy- cozy…

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