USA

molly@oro.net

Dating, #1459

I have lowered my standards. Split infinitives
don't bother me, the passive voice, using less
instead of fewer. It doesn't matter. I will go out
with all of them, irregardless.

Eulogy for Junior Mints

When I was in high school
my mother would buy them at 7-11
to eat by herself in the car, departing
from some diet, but she'd never hide the boxes-
just toss them onto the back seat's floor
and forget, then be embarrassed when
we saw them and change the subject.

They taste best in front of flickering movie screens,
laid on a willing boyfriend's tongue, or eaten
by halves in bed the day before your period.
White box with its cheerful letters, green
and minty, unchanged from the 50's.
The faintly plastic texture.

When I think of my extra weight:
the soft flesh around my ribs and the bolster
resting on my hips, it's not the doctor's office
picture: anonymous woman of normal size
outlined with yellow lumps. And it isn't the slippery
fat lodged under the skin, so hard to pull off
when you're boning a chicken. I look at myself
in the mirror-larger than most, but not unlovely-
and imagine a layer of Junior Mints
arranged over my muscles, those dark
brown spheres with their creamy centers-
molecules of pleasure.

© All Copyright, Molly Fisk.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.