The doctor told me that my cholesterol is high.
He said that I'm exceeding normal levels.
I'm supposed to cut down on my red meat consumption,
but I planned to have a pot roast for Thanksgiving,
and I won't have let the cow die in vain.
So I prepared the beef chuck, and it was juicy and pink
and I was the only one there to eat it,
sitting on the couch and watching
the VHS of our wedding
when you were thin and beautiful
and smiled at the camera.
I used to finish your food for you
when you were trying to lose the baby weight
and now I have bacon clogged veins
and a doctor telling me that I can't
enjoy the things I love anymore.
He sounds a lot like you.
My cholesterol is high.
I'm excelling at cholesterol.
His standards are too low.
He's a lot like you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem