It occasionally crosses my mind

-- as a termite will a hotplate--
while I wallow porcine, pompous,

pickling in the brine of my megamorphic rectitude,
that my wonderful existence as Emperor of the Over-Learned Bores,
attained after a lifelong struggle to absorb more useless mental chaff than
any mortal in history
to be spewed as water from a busted hydrant in blathering cascades without end,
may be placed in jeopardy by my own gluttonous disregard

for the mundane verity
that a subsistence upon swollen ego and

oleaginous orotundity and

animal grease
must inevitably result in ghastly bloat of form and deadly stress of ticker;

But then

secure in my conviction that the Almighty

daren't apply to my sociopathic rotundity
the laws of physics by which She governs the rest of the Universe,
I reach for yet another fistful of tallow

to pound into my over-clogged capillaries,
bravely marching in Strasbourg goose-step to martial strains

played by McDonald's Cholesterol Band
into a glorious future of back-pain and

wheezing for breath and

double airplane seats
to accommodate a posterior grown broader than a Simmental cow's,
over the cliff of myocardial infarction to that intellectually barren

Land of Rubber Tubes
which lies just short of the

Kingdom of Mental Rutabagas
where nary an ignoramus can sight-translate

Trilobite me

from the original Aramaic
and enemas lurk behind green curtains

waiting to pounce with radiator flush
and Vaselined nozzles.

LW