10/1/08 On Shame and Corn Syrup

I saw a girl I knew at the store.
I had a Coca Cola in my hand
as I sometimes do, just freshly purchased,
and I reacted like I sometimes do,
like a cross between a cringe and a shrink,
like I'd just been caught masturbating
or shoplifting a home enema kit
or kicking my neighbor's little white ugly dog
in its little yippity yappity ribs.

Of course my knee-jerk emotion was shame,
isn't it always, as I crumbled before this casual acquaintance
who might now possibly think slightly less of me,
and then I thought, you know, this is me and a soda.
I can just own this. I can just be my whole self
and embrace the caffeine/refined sugar addict that I am
along with all the other things about me that I
may or may not fully agree with or be proud of.

And anyway a little bit of corn syrup never hurt anybody.
Well, that's just silly, of course it has,
but still I refuse to give up my right
to be intermittently self-destructive,
which I believe is one of the inalienable rights,
and is usually one of my favorite rights to exercise
intermittently.