Poem-BINGE

There are

seven letters in calorie,

eight if you care for another.

Watch: for an apple and two thirds,

it’s sixty-to-ninety for the greedy one,

unsliced, rotund, and therefore inestimable.

Also; salad is overrated. Two letters too many

for a couple flaccid leaves, meant for animals, 

               am I

       an animal?

Will there ever be an excuse—

tear the raw stevia packets bludgeoned flat,

creaming, frothing white at the corners, knife

edge a harsh horizontal on my palm; it digs.

What for? Indulgence in its purest state;  

why, it just happens to be

your outline