this place has closed

ha!

for some reason, it is absurd to write this

BEAUTY

I ache for beauty.

I'm in the middle of the ache,

a bloated pancake on a plate.

Plug me with blueberries,

slather me with butter,

drown me in syrup.

I'll sputter and cough.

You'll lower your maw.

I'll slide in.

You'll eat me up and sigh.

I'll be beauty,

one big beautiful mouthful of going to your hips

but so good now.

But first get hungry.

Get dirt down and hungry.
You've really got to want me

for me to be beautiful!

Don't tell me it's middle age.

Don't tell me it's the end of the year.

Don't tell me I've heartburn.

What it is is this,

I am in need of becoming.

I am in need.

I need to throw away my tattered robes.

I need to bury my expended and expanded elastic-exhausted underwear.

I need to shed my extra chin, my weathered woolly, my expected day

and I need to slide like butter off that pancake,

and leave the plate.

(first posted December 29th, 2008)