Calorie Counting

In the old days, before
my own personal modernism,
I ate whatever I wanted.
Now I’m a man of progress,
always making plans and lists,
starting projects. Meals
become mathematical — calories
heap up, the loud ticking
of a counter in my brain
with each bite. It’s all a matter
of betterment: to attain
some kind of perfection
always a few adjustments
away. Often I hate myself
for this, my urge to restrict
and my failure to sustain
the restrictions. I should
have always known this is just
how the dream of progress
fails: we think we can make
our worlds better and end
up eating ourselves. We’re all,
in our own ways, insatiable.