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Poetic License: 'My Pot Runneth Over'

June 6, 2018
By JOE PACHECO , Island Reporter, Captiva Current, Sanibel-Captiva Islander

(Staring at My Pot Belly on a Slow Prime Time Evening)

Whose pot this is I think I know:

I knew him forty pounds ago,

Article Photos

Joe Pacheco

With ribs that showed and stomach flat

Now buried 'neath a mound of fat

That rises slowly toward the skies

Each time upon his couch he lies

With after-dinner belly bloat,

Doing his push-ups on remote,

Lifting his head to see the screen

And read closed captions in-between

The thighs once powerful, now subsumed

By all the goodies he's consumed.

My full-length mirror makes it clear

There are two persons dwelling here:

The one within is thin and svelte,

The one without - a fifty belt;

The one below no longer grows,

The one above can't see his toes.

One finds inside his closet door

Parallel worlds of clothes he wore,

The other tries them on in hope

Time travel will extend their scope,

But through each rack of universe

The waistline fit gets worse and worse.

In many cultures a belly proves

The man above has made his moves.

A "fair round belly" in Shakespeare's age

Meant "most successful" on life's stage.

If that old theory does still prevail,

I'm Bill Gates now on global scale!

My beautiful wife should get the prize:

She's watched the belly grow and rise,

She'll pat it fondly and she'll stick

By me through thick and thin - and thick,

Reminding me it's time to start

A diet that may help my heart,

Cause inches off my waist to peel

And give me back my old appeal.

Some other benefits she does propose

I'm too embarrassed to disclose,

But I succumb, promising to start

My diet tomorrow, cross my heart.

Tonight upon my couch I'll lie

And point my belly toward the sky,

With my remote in full control

I'll watch it down my belly roll.

Roll over once, roll over twice,

After pasta, roll over thrice.

Roll the remote's a game I play

To keep the re-run blues away

And put my belly to some use,

Give me relief from pot abuse.

My pot is full and round and deep,

And I have promises to keep -

But please, one snack before I sleep,

One snack to go before I sleep.

 
 

 

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