Breeze...
over my arm- 
the sound of cars- the smell of coffee
I sit

My shirt
Buttons stressed over my bulging stomach...

I don't know what I look like anymore
I can't even hear my voice over the cacophony of shoulds and aughts
     so many I don't know where to start

My shirt cuts into the fat under my arm.
I am not warm- as the sweat builds on my upper lip. 

Years of should and aught-
my body broken under its own weight
the stiffness in my shoulder
The pain in my wrist as I write these words.

I am too old to hate my body
Too old to care
Now I just
          -live