fat

no poetry today. sick to my stomach. these fat midwestern americans. these piggish priggish americans with their sunglasses and their cars and their sandals and toenails. jeans and stretch jeans and fat asses, waggling from the parking lot into k.f.c. when i ride the bus it's nothing if not awkward, ungainly sentences can't describe the lurching crouching flopping rolls of--oh god. why did i eat bbq for lunch (i didn't but why not might as well have) when i now smell like food with a jowly woman's snout at the back of my neck. get out before they turn on each other.