Draw me like one of your French girls, 

Those naturals.

Flat lines, thighs,

Stomachs and dimensions.

 

Trace me,

I am a silhouette.

Erase my coloring,

I am a b&w sketch. 

 

Pass me the paper,

I will dip it in orange juice.

And consume it,

The mush will keep me full.

 

Then, 

I can finally fit on your page

Be a muse 

For your artistic gaze

 

Is that dumb? 

Does it take away the fun?

 

Your paper wasn’t digestible either, 

The ink and the citrus bitter. 

 

Mixing in my mouth

I want to puke it out. 

 

Throw up your art

All over mine. 

 

So I’ll spit,

Not swallow this time. 

 

I am — effort 

Full. 

 

I try, try, try.

I know, it goes down dry. 

 

To keep down the bile, 

You should ingest my rhyme

 

With some orange juice; 

 

I have a glass,

That I don’t really use; 

I can pass,

It over to you.

 

Bon appétit.