Many friends gorge
during holidays,
stuffing stuffing in their mouth space
forcing fried flightless birds in their face
along with assortments of steamed greens
guzzling fermented bubbles of hops or grapes
until engulfed in the glazed-eye coma nap
as their bulbous bellies slowly bouey back and forth.

Before passing out, some might remark about convalescing a food baby,
to which I've often wondered
if said baby is born when they take a ****?
Is it still a food baby or has it grown to a **** baby?
Why don't they nurture said **** baby so it can grow
and get into a ****** school and then a **** job?