Wednesday, March 10, 2010

The Middle (3)

Dan guessed the truth was somewhere in the middle.
Yes, it was in that cream-filled sandwich cookie,
That’s where the truth always was.
Shortening and sugar never tasted so good.
And could you imagine that this was actually healthy?
Trans fat free, it said so right on the package.
He was satisfied enough, even though the numbers on the scale kept betraying him.
He had been out of work for some time.
The first heart attack had left him unable to work construction any more,
So his wife picked up more hours at the grocery store
And Medicaid footed the bill for his rehabilitation.
It was like trying to rehabilitate a criminal really.
The recidivism rate was high.
If only Fran could make more money than he could eat,
He knew she felt this way.
She resented him.
So he ate more.
He grew
And she still resented her new position that he had put her in.
He felt like a dog that she only maintained, but no longer cared about.
Filling the feed bowl, water, basic niceties.
No longer entertaining, cute or worthwhile,
Waiting for it to die and just get it over with already
So she could move on and get a new puppy.
He resolved to change, one way or the other.
Pushing himself to either direction. Exercise.
Would he regain his life, or end it in exhaustion?
It did not matter really, but it was everything.
Either way he would be freeing her from this indentured servitude.
She was too good to leave him, to cheat, but things had been barren.
He was guilty, alone.
He would work up his strength.
To stand on that treadmill. To lift those weights.
To walk. To move. To live.

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