The Death Of Food by Mike Meraz

the death of food
came to me
when I was 18
with the birth of a woman
wearing long hippie dresses,
Italian eyes,
with a love for white picket fences
and bad boys.
I never told you I was an over-eater.
fat,
bow-legged,
buck-toothed,
in and out of despair
at age 15
with my head placed
on window glass
staring at my world
as it passed me by.
but now I have caught up,
grown up,
moved out.
I am slim,
tall,
attractive,
with blue eyes
and dark hair.
I have made it!
but why do I still cry?