Elegy for a Fat Kid

To all the extra Value meals
at McD(Which they imply you
to SUPER size)
for large fries,
Kraft M&C from the box,
cans of Cheez Wiz which I'd rock
for the Cooler
Ranch Doritos.
Thank you very much,
but no thanks-
because now I love myself
not just the gluttonous thought
of having you.

All the objects of pre-teen
unbridled hormonal lust
a desire none should
trust, simply 'cause skanks
only cared for the shitfaced
skinny scumbags.
Never paid attention to the
slightly awkward archer of words,
the casanova-hearted
future college grad, who'd do
anything to please her-
said objects always
slept with the dropouts; sloppily
drunk, abusive, no future
borderline date rapish, surefire
soon-to-be deadbeat dads.

Sure, they'd expect a "FUCK YOU!1!" >_<
but quite the opposite,
they contributed to my character,
a desire to never settle for average,
discard any females
who never truly loved,
or realize what they could have if just-
respect(for self) was present
in any of 'she', which should be key...
may never get it from me,
but still sincerely grateful
for invaluable love lessons
yes, repugnant skanks,
I thank you.

To all the fiery, unattainable
sexy sirens streaming
down my high school
gym line, but never gave me
the time of mind or day,
while walking 'cross the street
to say "Hey, remember when
we-- like- held hands, like
in fifth grade?"
Cause I got chunky,
meant I no longer exist.
Maybe I owe a penance to
all them chicks, too.

For times ripped on,
picked on, left out or made
to feel like some freak who
shouldn't leave the house, in any setting he
stands out
It's true- because I do,
amazingly unique and
distinct in my own askew view.

But never a mutant, instead
today I know what I was put on
this Earth to do.
Meanwhile in your stagnant filth,
sit and stew...never grow,
never learn or evolve.
Sucks for you, but still
former bullies, fake friends-
here I stand, and I
will bow to them too.

For all the comics I've read,
trading cards I'd collect,
novels I bled for, song lyrics by heart,
lines from films I watched to no end;
play-pause, rewind, laugh, restart
each day on repeat.
The video game reflexes
from mastering execution of King Koopa
on Super Mario World 2,
action figures I'd cling to, conjuring
universes of retreat, in the
recesses of escapism I found
my own distinct narrative truth.
For every 'HADOUKEN!', 'Fatality'
or 'Show me a move!' learning
how to 'Finish Him' comes through
a Killer Instinct in all he'd pursue.
Although withholding physical exertion-
mentally, they bred sermons
of what life's determined worth is
and FUCK-- look, now
comic books are what's cool!

For those who loved me regardless,
the mother, sister, my family from
each altar who never cared if I was shy
they saw a side, which I hid from plain
sight, at least any in possibly vengeful view.
For the times when I felt like it's not worth it
to step out the crib,
hit the beach shirtless
because you get mocked when you
don't fit into the boxes
which society has so neatly
drawn up for you.

Once upon a time, lived this shelled
chubby,
introverted & quiet,
imaginative,
lonesome
but oh-so-brilliant and vibrant boy-
He died
yet we can't cry a log flume,
for we knew he was destined to fly
as legend, through stinging
depressions, we learn,
picking up pens for each bruise
as he grew(and he did bloom).

Don't lament for a departed,
shelled & guarded young artist
he'd want you to remember-
life's about what we feel,
not view.
You can taste true beauty,
only when you are actually
happy with 'you'

The fat kid inside- he'll never die,
long as there's a piece of me-
survives
his mouth motors, sensitive
heart beats, eyes open
and he sees,wholly breathes
& will always be
somewhere
asleep
within me.






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010