limbering up in the thinnest city on earth

My sweat weighs seventy seven pounds per ounce

times twelve

one hundred and sixty eight times.

and my knees bend for neon signs exclaiming:

ALL YOU CAN EAT!

beside me,

lays woman in the shape of an outline and

she wonders why I have weight issues.

I am tired of explaining the concept of

curves and

the importance of eating between meals.

in search of:

thighs, heavy like concrete words between sidewalk cracks

pavement carved intentions

in search of:

kisses that scar my tongue

in search of:

scale that weighs laughter and poetic style

and

convex belly.

‘don’t forget to breathe,’ she says

“don’t forget to eat”, i answer.