The Rest is Fat
Carby slop in a cereal bowl
charms the spark
out of a socket
that might otherwise
leave me with
a crepitus bone
a fascist peanut
a rusty old bolt.
But witness
your stretch stacked
inch by inch
under a linen shirt,
I’m playing pickleball
by noon and
risking squash
I never purchased.
3 thoughts on "The Rest is Fat"
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Love it.
“charms the spark out of the socket” is best image of the day. Good stuff!
A smart, well-crafted confessional poem.