Young Poem

I was digging through the big black plastic container where I throw all my old writing and garbage writing and scraps of paper with incomprehensible ideas -- I think of it as composting -- and in a folder whose cover features a white seal holding the Earth between its paws and another white seal peering cutely outward, both beneath the aurora borealis, I came across this poem, which is dated 1997 (putting me at 17 or 18):

Ladies

The ladies want a big meaty man:
Bold, juicy, and flavorful.
He should strut about and boast of his protein content
So people will ignore his saturated fat.
Call me rice pilaf.

I laughed.
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