FAT BOY
Shane Allison
I’m barely awake checking emails
And social media messages
When my mother asks me
If I want anything from the store.
She does this sometimes,
As if she’s some kind of space Martian
From Mars who is new to planet Earth
And doesn’t know her way around a supermarket.
With sleep seeds still in my eyes,
I tell her to get yogurt,
Turkey cold cuts, and chicken pot pies.
I tell her to throw waffles in the cart,
Plums and green grapes without the seeds.
I know she’ll forget most of what I ask
For, like kiwi and dragon fruit.
Raisin bread instead of Cherry plums.
I don’t want to clutter the corners of her mind
With things like blackberries and almond milk.
Needed ingredients for smoothies
To lower my blood pressure.
She will come home armed
With an arsenal of bags
Filled with turkey wings,
Ham hocks,
Neck bones and frozen okra.
Finger cookies for dad
And canned vegetables pickled in some soupy,
Salty concoction.
She’ll come with chocolate milk,
Sugar Pops and Frosted Flakes,
Zero sugar root beer for Dad’s bad blood
And her kidney disease, which was
News she broke to me in the lobby at the cancer center
Minutes before her CAT scan.
The calories I burn at Planet Fitness
Will only be regained under her reign
Where everything must be cooked
With butter, bacon, or grease.
She doesn’t know that it takes more than push‑ups
To flatten a belly like this.
A thousand thigh crunches to keep them from rubbing together.
My friend Chuck lost 90 pounds on Noom.
I would give both my nuts
To shed 90 pounds of fried food flesh,
Suck out the midnight cravings with a vacuum hose.
My mother doesn’t know what it’s like to look down
And not be able to see your dick without having
To hold your belly in.
“You look fat sitting on the sofa,” she told me once.
“Are you still going to the gym?” she asked when she
Saw me coming out of the bathroom with my shirt off.
Tonight I’ll write out a grocery list on the back of this poem:
Pork loin
Salmon
Beet and pomegranate juice
Almond milk,
Yogurt,
Blackberries and whiskey,
A little something extra for the smoothies.

Shane Allison
Shane Allison was bit by the writing bug at the age of fourteen. He spent a majority of his high school life shying away in the library behind desk cubicles writing bad love poems about boys he had crushes on. He has since gone on to publish several chapbooks of poetry, Black Fag, Ceiling of Mirrors, Cock and Balls, I Want to Fuck a Redneck, Remembered Men, and Live Nude Guys, as well as four full-length poetry collections, I Remember (Future Tense), Slut Machine (Rebel Satori), Sweet Sweat (Hysterical), and I Want to Eat Chinese Food off Your Ass (Dumpster Fire). He has edited twenty-five anthologies of gay erotica and has written two novels, You’re the One I Want and Harm Done (Simon & Schuster). Allison’s collage work has graced the pages of Shampoo, Unlikely Stories, Pnpplzine.com, Palavar Arts Magazine, Southeast Review, and a plethora of others. He is at work on a new novel and is always at work making a collage here and there.

