My father,
who tolerated no fat,
predicted I would do nothing right
or good,
much less healthy,
in my lifetime.
My mother,
absorbing nothing too mean or lean,
felt I could do nothing wrong
now,
so probably later as wellness
swell.
Neither my father,
mother,
nor I
seemed particularly surprised
when I rose and fell
somewhere in-between
these two extremes,
as do we all,
I suppose.
And yet I wonder
about my father's hierarchical value structure,
placing perfection...
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