The Winner
Kevin nipped and tucked this poem before publishing it.
By Kevin Somers
Published January 24, 2007
Happiness is a loving look
In the mirror, on the door
A stolen glance from a lusty crook
And there's my favourite paramour
My plugged-in hair is nice and black
The teeth, still new, are straight and white
Under my chin there is no more slack
The nose is smaller and looks just right
Since the laser, my vision's great
And Botox deadened lines
At last there can be no debate
I haven't any aging signs
Next I'm getting chest implants
And a big reduction of tummy size
I'll be bigger in the pants
And they'll suck the fat off ass and thighs
It costs a lot and I'm in constant pain
But you'll never hear a lament
For the price I pay to not be plain
Is worth it all; every cent
I need doctors at my side
The sick can go eat cake
I'm a man who's rich with pride
Look at me for heaven's sake
All my problems will disappear
When I am fine and thinner
And when confronted with a mirror
I hope to see a winner
[Excerpted from Kevin's poetry collection, Minimal.]
Kevin Somers is a Hamilton writer.
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