In Bigville, folks are Behemoths,
So hugely argey-bargish,
They knock you down in shopping malls
With rumps somewhat too largish.

Pavements are fifty feet across;
And roads, immensely wide—
It takes at least an hour or two
To reach the other side.

There, people are Gargantuan—
No girth is smaller than
Size ninety-eight, in children's clothes;
Much more for Pops and Gran.

The weight machine just bends and groans
As Bigville folk, stark naked,
Step up: it buckles, bursts and {{{boings!}}}—
No set of scales can take it!

When Bigville teens attempt to dance
At parties, clubs and raves,
Their flesh just rolls about their limbs
Like vast, pink tidal waves.

Gwynneth Poltroon wandered down
The street to buy a shake:
Her footsteps rocked the earth, and caused
The famous Bigville 'Quake.

Big Gwynneth, in her cups, one night
Was lowered into bed;
Next day no way could Gwynn be raised,
She'd settled so, and spread.

The Bigville birthrate's in decline:
Their tummies are so great
No Bigville Yang can reach its Yin,
Nor marriage consummate.

Bigville, where SuperSizeMeBoy
Cried "Up! Up! And away!"
And shaped to fly—but could not lift:
He's stuck there still today.

Bigville! City of my dreams!
Enlard me so I may
Become a giant citizen
Of Bigville, USA!

Paul Stevens

If you have any comments on this poem, Paul Stevens would be pleased to hear from you.