Corprate America Knows Best (a poem for Tony)

Do you hold glory,

In the enormity

Of your gargantuan body?

The way your cheeks

Are boyond 'cute' fullness?

In the way your blessed fat

Engulfs every part of you?

Can you not go

Just a bit of your life

Without your precious

Coffee, cake, and other delights?

Well, clearly you would

Rather add to your size

Than protect the fragile

Organs which provide

Your pathetic being with life.

You approach me again,

Just as many otherdays.

You know what you want.

Coffee, black, like a man,

Like a very obese man.

No sugar because it is healthy like this?

You drink to add to your depressing

Situation, and top it of with pound cake.

Do you even think?

Clearly not,

You thought this would be cheep.

That I, America,

Would let you kill yourself without robbing you.

No. Eight dollars.

Don't gawk at me.

Muster up the energy you lazy bum

And pay the price for your glutteny.

Yes, that's it. Fork it over

So that I cmay use it

For my corprate agenda.

So taht I can teach you

The error of your eating habbits.

No, don't leave yet.

You owe me more. A tip.

I gave you one.

I even lowered myself to your standards

By making you that coffee

And laboring over that cake

Which you couldn't make yourself.

Which I know you will enjoy devouring

With the knowledge it will kill you.

I supply you with these deadly pleasures.

Shouldn't you thank me?

Good. Yes. Now you may leave.

Enjoy your manly coffee

And more manly pound cake.

Enjoy Sir. Enjoy it

Before you die.

Before your body swallows you whole.

BEfore I take every penny you have.

Before you regret your indulgence

And learn that as always

I, America, your sister

Was right.