A New Year A New You

five by five hundred

As I get older, I just more prefer to beat defeatism
to the punch by simply not making the resolution
to begin with; come mid-January, there’s no guilt.
“Fat clothes” remain me-sized. There is nothing
a shade smaller to aspire to nor despair over.
There is no need to reset the alarm clock. It rings
when it always has and I awake to peeping
daylight through the blinds. No pre-dawn Zumba
or activity more rigorous than making coffee, not tea,
to wash down all those tasty, tasty carbohydrates.

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