the storm rages outside

it’s a snowstorm

with freezing rain and icicles

I’ve tried to go outside, more than once

Because the roads are clear

I guess the snowplow has been going

the problem is…

I’m on the 3rd floor

and the stairs are covered in ice

I can see myself falling

to my premature death

or one of those life-altering accidents

so, I retreat inside

and lie in my bed with the broken springs

getting hungrier

I didn’t prepare for this storm

but I’ve got lots to eat

I’m 10 pounds over-weight

and I’ve got a week off from work

so, I’m hoping forced exile

is a forced diet plan

My body can eat itself

and I’ve already lost 4 pounds

I’m reading books by drunk writers

who had venereal disease

I feel safe in this apartment

because there are no women and no booze

although, I do think I might need some to get through the next couple of pages

I look in the mirror

and I’m shocked by how thin I look

Is the scale broken?

I still have 6 more pounds to go

I was a skinny kid in high school

we can never go back

even if we get back

to our high school weight

Being closed off

in an ivory tower

does one good

because we can escape everything, we “need”—

all that stuff that weighs us down

I have to face my face in the mirror

It’s been 15 years

since high school

I’m still a kid

and I’ll be saying that

when I’m 70.

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