I order delivery once a week:
French fries
falafel veggie burgers
the act has become somewhat romanticized
in my mind: cozy pajamas
overflowing
cup of blood red wine
exorbitant
greasy food that warms and fills the soul
I’d like to do it more really
I can’t:
digital disappointment from the rectangular eyes
of my scale the
weeping zeros
sweeping across by bank account
the gaze of the retiree in the apartment upstairs
certainly
judging me from above
as I have my sordid rendezvous with the balding
forty-something-to-be-honest-I-didn’t-really-see-him-
beyond-the-steaming-gluttonous-styrofoam-containers
delivery man
judgement
judgement and guilt stand between me and the erotic
and
often exotic
salty pleasure caressed by the loving tip of my tongue
juices
between my ravenous teeth
the
gentle slip down my throat penetrating
my
waiting and supple stomach
they say I can’t blame Catholic school for my neuroses
and
foibles and fetishes
but five-thousand years ago some woman
ate an apple and now I can’t enjoy a simple treat without
the entire
weight of some carpenter’s cross and millions of years
of earthly sin and shortcomings spoiling my Goddamn
appetite
so in short
in spite of
my innocent cravings
human all too human
in light of
the necessity of sin for salvation
in contradiction
to my long-lost beliefs
I’ll bury my lust
in the blandness of beans flagellate myself
with salads and tofu
and if I come to find the simple pleasure in that
I’ll
castigate myself for that too
***
(Cuenca, Ecuador -- February, 2021)
I'm one of those people who turn to junk food to cope with stress. Then, I feel more stressed and guilty for wasting money on unhealthy food. This stress makes me eat even more junk food.
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