He never meant to be a friend
but we made him one anyway
and that is something he'll never forgive us for.
We've shaved his legs, we've covered his obscene nakedness--
the pants are baggy and down to the floor
just to make sure there are no accidents.
His teeth were flattened, and whitened and
we've diluted the brimstone right out of his mouth.
We let him eat an egg sandwich now and then.
We've bleached his skin, we've filed his horns,
we've covered that bare and blasphemous chest
with a double-breasted suit that makes him respectable.
His hair has been tamed into something far more agreeable
and in just the right light he has the dangerous edge of a Dean or Brando
as we take him out of the wild and put him squarely in the boardroom.
It's there he plots in between games of solitaire,
nudging things just so while he bides his time.
In no time at all, you see, he'll have a great view
as he remakes the world in his own image
and his imported clothing wilts right off of him.
He'll smile, a horrible, wild one he'd been saving
for just that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment