Meathead Monologue

dear body; no refunds

i sit myself down and place my hands
on my face,
i shove the mirror close to my body so i can observe.
hopefully,
the more i look at it, the more i can get used to it.
all it's odd shapes and curves and crevices.
i will get used to it
and i will love it.
i sing to it in the mirror and i watch my face contort with the emotion of the artists,
but the emotion that i do not feel.
i poke and prod and i feel strange in places
and eventually i decide it doesn't fit.
and i want a new one.
but no refunds, they tell me.
so i have to grow into you, body.
i just have to.
no matter how long i look at you in the mirror,
or how long i observe and poke and sing to you,
you are just a strange body.
and i am sorry if i don't fall in love with you
as soon as you'd like me to.
but when i do, we will both know.
when i fall in love with you, body,
you will know it.

r.k.