Friday, August 5, 2016

It Didn't Help if You were Fat

She was too heavy for the summer.
That’s all there was to that.
When it was ninety-three degrees,
it didn’t help if you were fat.

Therefore her air conditioning
became her close companion –
although she had a closer one –
a yellow spirit from the canyon

she flew into in a dream –
where, preternaturally light, she
was a wafting gleam. Truth to tell,
he sometimes was annoying. He

fretted over every little wisp
and tendril of her feelings.
She often found him cloying.
And yet he let the peelings

and the chips and flakes and shards
of her imploding psyche fall
as if they hadn’t spelled the end
of her, or anything at all.


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