April

My neighbor has been calling me “thunder thighs,” as if I’m supposed to be ashamed of my curvy, athletic body. As if I’m expected to want to look sickly thin, like her. As if there is nothing more to life than doing one’s best to attract skin-deep desire from shallow men. Remembering what actually matters to me, I take my bike for a spin.

Mezza luna ride
Thunder thighs power through storm
Who cares how I look?

She’s not strong enough to ride a hundred miles, like I am. She’s not intelligent enough to complete her education, like I’m doing. So, she sits at home, screaming insults out of her window, in an attempt to make me feel as small and worthless as she does.

Maybe she should try
To improve her own sad life
While I bloom like Spring

We were friends in high school, before her inability to run from his infidelity ate up her self-esteem. She used to be healthy, curvy, and beautiful, like me. After his first affair, she became skinny, as if that would keep him from cheating again. She is literally starving for love, and I feel sorry for her.

There’s nothing wrong with being single. I’m holding out for something real. If I never find it, that’s okay. I would rather die alone than suffer for love the way that she does.

Written in response to Haibun Monday: Mezza Luna by dVerse: https://dversepoets.com/2023/02/27/haibun-monday-2-27-23-mezza-luna/

Stock photos from Pexels free photo library.