The Shithead

Again I see him on the train
Impossibly rotund, he seems to be bursting at all seams
His appearance makes me uneasy
I can see him in long buffet lines, cursing the pace
I can see him dancing towards a chocolate fountain in a reception hall as Frankie & Johnny plays
I want him to succeed at all things as I mock him
I want to be there when it all comes crumbling down
He knows that my hollow eyes are watching him
He's reading a book, probably a cookbook
I laugh, I'm horrible
How quickly could he travel a mile?
How many days' total foot travel would it take to surpass a mile?
Surely some muscle must be built dragging that around all day
He's immaculately groomed
His freshly-pressed clothes are of the highest quality
Such finely-tuned neglect
I, the shithead, cannot look away