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He fed her. Night after night, screaming
weight loss and sugarcane. Double cheese
burgers and chips, laffy taffy, and skittles.
Cases upon cases of fruit flavors. Try this
he says, beer with lime. Or this, this stuff
will make you lose weight. Now get those
fucking plants out the sink so I can get
your dinner ready. I'm so pissed about
being caregiver but at least I can cook!
She vomited every morning in his shower
when brushing her two remaining teeth.
Kept growing. Despite the scale in the kitchen.
I keep it here to remind you of what you need to do. Stop eating all that candy. But I want you to stop and pick me up some. My favorite has coconut which is better health-wise than your choices of the rainbow of fruit flavors. Don’t start baking, I’m the chef here. Remember what you did with those red beans? I make them better. Following recipes not like your 'toss it in with salt pinched between the tips of your thumb and index finger.' I told you and showed you what your food does to women, plumps their breasts and hips and lips and we cannot have you looking like that again. I can only fuck you one way now! Those other girls were Slim, tall and danced the night away on poles. What do you mean you’re not hungry anymore? Laughs and says, she won’t eat watermelon, scared to put it in the basket and buy it in the store. She rolled her eyes and gagged at the smell of tilapia and pineapple. Longed for toaster ovens of catfish and lemon. And an accompanying teacup of coffee milk. Like normal folk.
