Bob’s Big Boy,

my baby brother and I writhe around

squeaking on red vinyl seats

reeking of mildewy rags

 

***

I am four years old –

a fat vegetarian.

My orange-skinned

carrot-juice fasting

pediatrician said so.

 

***

You explain it all to your date, Anyman

My cheeks glow hot

as you order for me

low-fat cottage cheese, tomato slices

Diet Pepsi for you,

Smileshrugwink,

Not hungry.

 

***

King Baby Brother

in his booster seat throne

eats pancakes

with syrup and butter.

Sticky food on his face,

 

***

Reminds me

of sticky things I should bury

Deep.

Mind full,

stomach empty

I stare down into my plate

 

***

Tomatoes bleed

into white curdled sludge,

the smell is like sheeps

with matted fur covered butts,

poop hanging out,

 

***

Mama, I am trying

my best,

to forget

 

***

The more I try,

the stronger the sheep –

their sour milk spit-up stench,

The crust in the corners

of their eyes,

mud on their feet

tomatoes and cottage cheese

 

***

Anyman slides his hand

under the greasy table

You cock your auburn head

receptive

 

***

No chance I’ll survive

the surging

What I’ve swallowed

already up in my throat

 

***

Then you see it on my face

your brow wrinkles in panic,

sweat breaking through

your make-up caked face.

You beg

Please don’t please don’t

You can’t do this to me!

 

***

It shoots from my mouth,

oozes from my plate,

slides down red vinyl,

pools around booster seat

drips hot onto my feet

 

***

Anyman springs away,

leather face twisted

You reach

Napkins, never enough

tears fill your eyes as the waitress calls a busboy

 

***

I’m so sorry, Mama!

I hate it

as much as you do.

 

***

Now you’re gagging too,

but you didn’t eat anything.