the deep end in poetry

I tell the lady “I’ll have the chicken on this
terrible fast food salad GRILLED thankyouverymuch”
always makes me feel like an Olympic sprinter
“salad dressing? How about LITE VINAIGRETTE?”
“make it lite, I’m training for a Tough Mudder”
I’ll say “no, only a small fry and an unsweetened
iced tea with the triple-double cheesey-burger
my body is a fucking temple, brother
and yes of course the extra bacon”
this is how we all fool ourselves
into thinking that we’re healthy
here at the end of America