Tuesday, December 11, 2018

CONVERSATION STARTER

As its black tip question-marks,
and then dwindles, I just have time

to wonder: have I really ever
made a fire? Or was it

always just—the match.
And

who invented these things anyway?
And did that person ever consider

all the future generations—brightly
going around feeling like creators

when actually, that gleam
of genius in their eyes

was preemptively put there—
by starlight, by manure

and cow's milk
and carbon and cod liver,

by the bodies of two strangers
just out for a good time—just for one

headless goddamn moment—
in the more pleasurable dark.

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