So now that we’ve chastised
and chased out our remaining hangups,
can we fantasize finally
without further interruption?
I hadn’t expected the corruption
to be so pronounced,
nor the elongated shadows
shimmying up the staircase.
Even at our basest, our crudest,
we’re still considered prudes.
I can’t help but scoff at the attitudes
that give birth to such beliefs,
at the narcissistic gimme-gimmes
who adopt them, the grief they inflict
on unsuspecting passersby.
It’s always been my opinion
that if you haven’t got wings,
you maybe shouldn’t try to fly.