ita transit occidens


I’d advise to not start peeling –
what you find might send you reeling
as a chop exposes scarcely more
than endless skins and nut-hard core.

Shakespeare notwithstanding, frailty
thy name is not woman – nor is it man;
here, most of us were born
of a bloodless pairing –
mutually flattering reflections –
coupling sans commitment or real caring
rather like road accidents – collisions of bodies –
& half of that, or maybe more, conceived
in the back seats of autos by neglected & aggrieved
foolish children, whatever the number of their years –
puppets of chance, hormonal imperative or –
worse – unpardonably short-sighted, misguided
& downright mercantile design; no, if I were you
I’d go easy on the close inspection tour,
lay the magnifying glass to rest
for, whatever you expect to find,
you might very well soon attest
we are a genus of pawns and prostitutes at best.




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