Friday, February 18, 2011

Random Impulse: The Hips Poem

pants are too tight
and my ass creaks in them
like geriatric door hinges
muffin top turns to mushroom cloud
and folds over and swallows the belt
like a glutton gulps spaghetti

my cellulite is dynamite
it blows up and over
like deep fried atom bombs covered in cheese
my skinsides cracked like pavements
by the purple, vined witch fingers
called stretchmarks

huff up stairs, into cars
make dressing rooms cramed
pools overflow
benches break
i am fat, cracked, and a land yacht
but i cna dman well cook

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