The Glutton
It started with candy corn
on Hallows eve when I was ten,
as dad escorted us from house to house
on that windy night.
Sadistic pleasure was mine,
as I bit the tiny white tips
from each piece and threw the rest away,
while marching to the next house.
Such destructive pleasure changed the way I ate
from that night forward.
No longer did I eat with polite accord
or cater to normal desire.
Food was heretofore decimated by fork and knife,
cut to pieces and consumed
with vengeance by anger
and growing desire for more.
Formative years turned into teen angst
that only increased the distance
between myself and the world,
with uncontrolled craving and binge.
Everywhere I now look, I see food.
Food on magazine covers,
in commercials on TV,
even a food network
Supporting my lifestyle
of decadence
and gourmandian appreciation
of sauces and desserts.
I understand your envy,
acknowledge your disappointment
of failure, while I excel
and try not to flaunt my excitement.
Just because my weight exceeds
what my scale measures,
doesn't mean I have to modify
the way I live.
No. Life only goes around once,
and for me,
it's a paragon of pleasure,
at least four times each day.
But every year at Halloween,
I support the neighborhood
and give kids candy corn
minus the tiny white tips.
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