January 13, 2013

birds & bees

When a man & a woman
love each other very much
or, anyway, enough

the man plants a seed
inside the lady, and,
nine months later, the lady
gets to drink & smoke again. Also,

there is a baby. The baby
cries & eats &
shits & pukes &
sometimes smiles.

Payment. Then, walks,
then talks, plays,
learns to lie, learns
not to. Goes
to school, learns

life isn't fair, disappoints
the parents, is disappointed
in turn (in its way, life IS fair),
learns to lie
again, better now,

grows up,
grows      up
gr
ow
sup

(when has it EVER made sense?)

picks up bad habits,
wishes it were never born or born,
at least, to different people, or, at least
with thinner thighs,

decides

not to commit suicide. Calls it
progress.

Goes on
trips, retreats, forced
marches in the wrong direction,
finds it is wrong,

keeps going, determined
to get there and build
a city where there isn't one,
gets tired,

hitches a ride
to civilization, complains
it is too crowded and impossible
to meet anyone.

Meets someone,
claims it is love,
plants a seed, nine months later
drinks and smokes again,

empty as a drum and loud,
almost convinced
of having done
something, made
something

out of nothing, something
that might last.

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