maybe the weight is because
i missed my number
and escaped the inevitable,
cheated death
with modern medicine.
if there is a god,
perhaps she knew what she was doing
when she sent me polycythemia
vera. maybe she was trying
to save me from the weight.
oh, but the doctors,
wanna-be gods, themselves,
knew better. they used
their pills and potions
to keep me long suffering.
here i am now.
half-healthy and half-dead,
burdened with the knowledge
that i should have already
crossed the finish line.
