Would that I could float through life in a horizontal state–
It seems that when I’m prostrate, I don’t look antiquate
Once I’m perpendicular, all illusions fade
My skin begins to crumple like a silken Austrian shade
Wasn’t it just yesterday, my legs were sleek and sheen?
I paraded in bikinis–the intention to be seen
Then something happened instantly–I wish I had a clue
My taut and tightened belly expanded as it grew
However when I’m supine, the tummy’s smooth again
Splayed out I might delude some foolish, naive men.
A thought has just occurred–your avoirdupois is new
Horizontalism may well be good for you
We’ll lie prone upon a Louis the XV chaise
Expelling any vestige of depression or malaise
At mealtime, we’ll have ourselves an orgy Bacchanal
Reclining as we drink and dine–just never vertical
In the morning you’ll behold my firm and radiant skin
And likewise I will fib and say how slim you look again
At dusk we’ll rise, meandering without a speck of light
Fat and wrinkles go undetected in the darkness of the night.
Jan Chapman
November, 2012
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