Bob’s Big Boy,
my baby brother and I writhe around
squeaking on red vinyl seats
reeking of mildewy rags
*
I am four years old –
a fat vegetarian.
My orange-skinned
carrot-juice fasting
pediatrician said so.
*
You explain it all to your date, Anyman
My cheeks glow hot
as you order for me
low-fat cottage cheese, tomato slices
Diet Pepsi for you,
Smileshrugwink,
Not hungry.
*
King Baby Brother
in his booster seat throne
eats pancakes
with syrup and butter.
Sticky food on his face,
*
Reminds me
of sticky things I should bury
Deep.
Mind full,
stomach empty
I stare down into my plate
*
Tomatoes bleed
into white curdled sludge,
the smell is like sheeps
with matted fur covered butts,
poop hanging out,
*
Mama, I am trying
my best,
to forget
*
The more I try,
the stronger the sheep –
their sour milk spit-up stench,
The crust in the corners
of their eyes,
mud on their feet
tomatoes and cottage cheese
*
Anyman slides his hand
under the greasy table
You cock your auburn head
receptive
*
No chance I’ll survive
the surging
What I’ve swallowed
already up in my throat
*
Then you see it on my face
your brow wrinkles in panic,
sweat breaking through
your make-up caked face.
You beg
Please don’t please don’t
You can’t do this to me!
*
It shoots from my mouth,
oozes from my plate,
slides down red vinyl,
pools around booster seat
drips hot onto my feet
*
Anyman springs away,
leather face twisted
You reach
Napkins, never enough
tears fill your eyes as the waitress calls a busboy
*
I’m so sorry, Mama!
I hate it
as much as you do.
*
Now you’re gagging too,
but you didn’t eat anything.
