A guru stopped her on the street
when she was buying food to eat.
The book was priced above the norm
but folks, he said, would truly storm
the outlets, thus they soon sold all
he’d brought some more down to the Mall.
Matilda made herself some tea,
a plate of sandwiches of Brie
and ham with lots of mayonnaise,
while she began to read the phase
that introduced her blubber bod
to a solution straight from God.
And while she munched she also read.
Her man came in with fresh baked bread
and by the time they went to bed
she felt relaxed and full and fed.
Next day she woke, gang ho and keen
for paragraphs she’d never seen.
The dining room was stocked with food
to get her truly in the mood.
And as she read about the joules
she thought of all her friends, the fools.
They starved themselves and even smoked
then, in the end they always joked
that dieting today was silly
as men preferred a well-fed filly.
It took some weeks to read the book
and she decided that it took
a certain person to lose weight
and others kept their figure eight.
She kept the book, though it had failed,
she loved what all the text entailed.
The photos of those skinny birds
and all the stimulating words.
For years, she would so often sit
in her recliner, eat a bit
and study all the pseudoscience
it was a wonderful alliance.
They buried her and needed eight
pallbearers to hold up the weight.
The guru did attend the service,
he was quite pale and somewhat nervous.
He asked if they would understand
if he would reach in with his hand
no, not to touch the dear deceased
(and now he nodded to the Priest) ,
but to make sure that she could read
about her dietary need.
It was a gesture of concern
and since she did not want to burn
they all agreed that it was wise
for her to use her lifeless eyes
as she had done in constant study,
this book had now become her buddy.
And if the journey would be slow
while she could watch the earthworms grow
perhaps the wisdom would sink in
and she’d arrive in Heaven, thin.