Sexta-feira, 21 de Agosto de 2015

Fat

bacchus.jpg

 

The chair pressed my sides,

Its arms drilling into me saying,

you shouldn’t be here.

This chair, when void of unwanted girth, only sits the usual and the sane,

Not freaks of flesh.

 

I screw myself out of the esplanade seat,

where all sit drinking and eating guiltlessly,

and I think:

I do  not belong here,

I’m too fat and self-obsessed to exist between sundecks and sunscreens.

Summer, sunlight and sunshine all ask to for their lithe and golden sons,

Not the trudging obese.

I should be ashamed,

 

…and I am.

 

I waddle away, my ass a pendulum, ticking away my escape from this sun dappled scene.

 

As I depart a warm breeze shoots through the street,

a tepid rush of air raises the leaves, rustles the branches and washes over me.

The air strokes my neck and shoulders,

blowing softly through my shirt,

and embracing me like a playful lover.

 

I feel myself standing to attention,

and walking a little straighter …

a little prouder.

 

 

 

 


publicado por Aurea Mediocritas às 14:15
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