Where are the obese, wheezing doctors
of yesterday? As they puffed and huffed
to get around you to check your breathing,
they smelled of cigarettes. Their injunctions
for your reformation were halfhearted—
not like the new breed, thin and fit,
who if you say you don’t have time to exercise
tell you they rise at 5:00 a.m.
for an hour’s bike ride, losing
30 pounds last year which they’ve
kept off. I miss the doctor I used to see—
twice my weight, when he sat down
across from me in his office, he was relieved
to be off his feet, and dying for a smoke.
Drawing by Joseph Yeomans