110/365 : ode to cereal and handsome old men

i think i have to write a poem about the significance of frosted mini wheats 

and age and nostalgia 

and being pulled into my next evolution 

by a whole sea of older men 

and not objecting 

not one tiny bit

because they eat the same cereal as my dad 

and i haven't eaten cereal in years 

i stuck so long to granola, almonds
ginger, plain greek yogurt

but now, now i am done pretending 

to be healthy and good

now i am ready for comfort and love

and adult fucking 

and the kinds of foods that grow my belly

round and shamelessly alive

now i am giving up on feeling 

helplessly young

i want to indulge in the american pleasure

of cereal for dinner

or right before bed