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Thursday, April 4, 2013

Eat, You Fat Bastard

Every day I wake up
Eat my bowl of cereal
And I have a standoff
With a donut at the table
Him over there
Me over here
Staring and daring him to jump in my mouth

Some days I win the contest
Other days I lose

Is it a loss
Or a win
If I eat the donut?

Now that's the question

The answer to which
Is the thing that shaves days off my life
Like grandfather's old hand plane
One stroke at a time

The main problem being
That food means happiness
Food means love
Maybe not to you
And if so
You're lucky
And probably normal

"Look at that poor fat bastard over there"
John pokes at his friend to get his attention
"Eating all by himself
The whole fucking thing
Jesus!"

John doesn't say it too loud
But the sound carries just the same
Causing the fat bastard to turn a little red
And wipe at the wet in his eye
Brought on by silent shame

As he calls over the waitress
To order some dessert
Even though he's full
Even though it will make him feel sick
And give him a gut ache

But the ice cream won't judge him
The pizza won't reject him
Filling a void deep inside
Opened by love's lack
And as long as the place will serve him
He'll keep on coming back