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My Silicone Valleys
As I push
my shopping cart
passed aisles of TV
dinners and marshmallow
cereals and miles and miles
of laxatives disguised as instant
breakfast shakes, my soul was
drawn to the achingly vibrant
and beautifully ripe piles
and rows of crisply
perfect organic
fruit.
Instantly,
I imagined the
smooth, biting incision
slicing along the underside
of my breast, soft tissue being
forced aside to make room for
a thin membrane fat with silicone,
pumping cleavage to my neck,
my body sore and inflated,
a form worthy of a
throne among the
grapefruits.
