Obese (draft)

Gravity likes me
As I grower bigger
And stronger downward
It pulls.
I joke, I say
Stairs are my natural enemy
but as I climb
Thirty-year old joints
Grind, emit dust
swell and contract
breathless, I want to
condense and fade
and slither and drip
drop drip drop
like water back to the bottom
and pool.

I explain with a half smile
that the fat in my lower
back presses against my spine
and I blush as I confess
that I think the weight has
compressed my nerves
and leaves my pelvis
thrust forward, my body
leans and grooves in weird
positions and as I lie
awake at night I imagine
white fatty caulk filling in
the spaces between vertebrae
and swear I can feel this
oozing and liquifying of
my bones.

Thin is an adjective
but fat is a noun.
I am not me, I am fat.
I am not human, I am fat.
I am twice, thrice the size of who
I perhaps was supposed to be
and of the size of the girl
he left me for

The universe sometimes slides
into my pores when I'm not
looking and pump pump pump
fills me up, inhales, inflates
and I fill and I float
above you all then crashed
dragged, wrestled by gravity
and you see the girl stumbling
out of the tavern bathroom
smeared mascara, nicotine breath
she wears ballerina flats
easier on her ankles but
as she slides onto her stool
next to her beautiful and slender
friend she knows she is the ugly
duckling with open spaces
invaded and perceived
and needs to lose a hundred pounds
before she can again wear heels
without the fear of falling
down.