The Scale

As if a scale could lie, after
all the cake, pie, cookies,
champagne, wine, chocolate;
the cooking, the eating while
cooking, the eating,
the fresh bread, the parties.
Even if the scale could lie,
the waistband of our pants
could not, stretched to their limits,
each thread groaning as a gridiron
on a bridge groans under the weight
of each passing truck before finally
breaking in two, releasing the hapless
into the rushing river below.