Saturday, April 12, 2008

Poem, Day 12

Polyester stretches
against rolls,
pounds and curves smothered
in layers of cotton-blend,
trying to strangle the life
out of them.
Trying,
but failing,
to dress up the flaws
until the rolls seem more
like “love handles”
and the pounds
are mere millimeters.

It doesn’t work.

And you wonder why
I haven’t bought new clothes
in four and a half months.

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