A Day At The Beach

     I hid the cookies on the top shelf of the pantry even
though I knew I could still reach it, toes strained and knees
bugging from pinked skin as I push my hands above my head,
because I am always hungry.

I hid myself, floating on top of murky pond water, next to bloated
breasts, like the yellow bellied leaves crumpled around me, timid
as I approach my friends laughing in the middle,

I hid in the shallow water barely warm, trying to be as slim
as my shadow, haunting slenderness, unlike trees whose girth
becomes magnificent, wrinkles celebrated as great crevices of bounty,
sticky sap like yellow stalagmites, collecting from fingering branches,

Where I hid, paleness folded on top of paleness, soft flesh, wet
flesh, pink-yellowed skin reaching around my peach, soft and sweet
in my hand, sun covered hide hiding sweet flesh, pressed
against my lips, always questioning why
we must be made of this stuff when we could be made from bark
or stone,

I hid between pebbles pink and numerous,
tiny collections down my thigh, stopping just before my wrist
encircling angry hairs, erect by the thousands, soft flesh,
angry flesh, flapping in the breeze, boobs like jowls
resting on knees,

I hid, in the back row, hands no longer reaching,
I hid myself in my lap, hands resting on knees,
I hid pressed between paper
sheets, the pale folded piles before me, my friends
calling answers from the middle, looking, smiling back
at me, gazes as long as my shadow, dragging across
the street, its taunting presence reminding me
to re-approach the beach,

I hid between heavy thighs motivated by guilt,
sharp sand shameful against my pink bloated feet,

I hid my constant hunger,
And now I must eat.