Going back to my hometown to lose weight

 My weight made the bed creak again and again.

My round belly stopped me from bowing to the wise man,

and also stopped me from repeatedly scrubbing my collar.

Taking advantage of the bright sunshine

, I sang a song, rode my motorcycle

, and returned to my hometown—it would help me lose weight.

My mother, seeing me return so heavy,

brought me a bowl of bittersweet nagging,

making me chew it

, so my stomach would contract with my heart.

My father silently took a few puffs of his cigarette,

trying to expel the pent-up emotions of the past years.

The dog licked my palms clean,

as if swallowing some of this hypocrisy and treachery

was necessary for survival.

The cow led me to the mountain to bask in the sun.

I need to dry all my moldy things

and read them to him.

That little path, like a bandit's trail,

can make me sweat buckets. I'll sprinkle them

on the roadside

as toll.

Carrying a load of corn cobs, I'll

take the first step.

The joy of harvest

will be pressed into the earth.

The village, growing thinner day and night, my

round belly,

two huge temperature differences

—thankfully, I have a heart to pump blood

, otherwise, frozen stiff, I

would turn into a pillar of stone.

I don't even know how much I've lost.

A phone call to go to work

, I ate an extra bowl

, puffing out my round belly,

ready to go home.