I love cheese. I love chocolate. I have not yet figured out how to work the two into a fat proud poem. Surely there should be a way of writing happily about cheese or chocolate in connection with the experience of proud fat people.
Also thinking of New York and oddly enough, the subway, which I miss, and which I am so totally not supposed to miss.
Let's see...cheese and chocolate on the subway in New York from a fat and proud standpoint..
The woman came from nowhere,
the nowhere that floats and crawls
just past the Temple commuter line.
She sat down next to me
and starting hating on Catholics.
She stared at the trash.
I intuited hunger.
Handing her a pear from my bag,
I felt it should have been more.
At the time I thought my fat
deserved no mercy
and wouldn't miss fruit.
A nun came up to me
and said, "That was real nice
of you. I thought she was
going to hit me."
"Thanks," I said,
my agnostic surprise
at being called nice
by a nun giving birth
"She looked hungry, I guess."
Oh well...ended up with Philadelphia and a pear, instead, and just a little fat pride by implication in a brief mention of the time when I didn't have any.