Sitting under a lightened load

Waiting for my modeling debut,

This is my first time

Baring all for the camera

Since I was just a baby.

Now I’m going under,

Getting my inside scoped

To see what might be growing in there.

Right now I could care less

As all I am thinking about

Is food, fried chicken and waffles primarily,

But I could live with pancakes or

Sausage gravy, or just about anything

Short of onions.

These last few minutes before the gas

Are harder than the previous thirty-six hours

Because I’m hungry now

And unable to have even a cough drop.

Rachel Ray is on the waiting room tv

Making some shit I would never consider.

Hunger inspires desire and compromise,

Even submission as whatever she’s making

Has onions and I’m drooling like my dog

When I ask him if he wants a bone.

Oh, take me next

I’m prepped, ready to go,

Willing to turn whatever cheek you need

To move the process along.

My modesty was left with the tortellini

I ate two days ago

And I’m feeling photogenic.
I still won’t smile, though.


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