Nightscape

There's people here, out on the streets at night.

That is enough itself to make me glad.

They glow themselves, without the aid of light

And loosen what I hadn't noticed had

Grown tense. I'd almost say it's sad

How quickly everything falls into place:

I'm standing taller. I feel like a cad,

Cheating on the city I'd replace

That doesn't run this kind of nighttime race. 

It's not it's fault. But there are people here 

Refusing to cede night the public space:

No emptiness. No darkness. And no fear.

Even here they sleep sometimes, of course,

But by free choice, and not by night's brute force.

rara y familiar

The bones are still the same. Only the bones;

The flesh is strange and new, and stretched too wide 

But underneath the skin, still something owns

Its past, and while I cannot say "with pride"

It doesn't seem embarrassed. It is changed:

I constantly encounter something new

In my perusal, and I feel deranged

Each time I rearrange what once I knew.

Some things are subtle; some hit in the face.

And I of course have changed as well, though I

Do not believe the bones have noticed. Chase

The past, and you will only live to die.

The bones are still the same. It's a relief 

If they changed too, I might just drown in grief.

weight

Do not be shocked as I grow fat; 

Be only shocked that I was thin; 

Now being fat is not a sin 

But people will, for all of that, 

Treat weight as if it stood in pat

For health and goodness. They'll begin 

To think you worse when pounds come in

And better when they're out. A flat

Stomach is the beaux ideal; 

But why should I prefer to be

Some other body than I am?

I live the way I want to feel

And if that means obesity

I'm healthy, so who gives a damn?