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Poem

as america’s gluttons gear up for a day of
mass stuffing of the face
to celebrate the 
genocide of native-americans in this country
one can’t help but find the dual-speak 
concerning the 
need to be
t
h
i
n
n
e
r
to be a humorous inner monologue which plagues the minds of those who
stand in the check out line at the grocery store
flipping through the glossy mags
hoping that one day they will be able to flatten that stomach out
enhance those muscles & breasts 
as well as gain fuller more lush
lips
amidst all the other physical attributes of the
beautiful people.

the thin-minded glutton walks a fine line at the family table
as s/he stuffs themselves but in the same moment
counts each calorie going in
with the foreknowledge of just how much exercise & 
dieting it will take to work it off.

in fact, the conversation at the table might even
dabble between talk of how much said individuals have gained 
or lost throughout the year
as the buttered rolls are passed.

meanwhile,
in the rest of the world 
people who cannot stuff themselves in the name of genocide
envy the occupants of the empire
(whose thumb they are pinned under anyway)
already thin (and not airbrushed)
for what it is that they need is 
nutrients, clean water, protein &
a better life---
and as we pass the candied yams
we are glad that we are not yet living on the streets
with the 40,000 or so registered in NYC’s homeless shelters alone
or for that matter
unable to buy food because our weekly budget is stretched so very 
tight
because we are unemployed &
waiting on the next check.

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