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MORTIFIED
Life's too short,
and I keep my blood tucked in.
I don't want to be mortified
by what I do or by the flacid vivacity
of my last donations.
I take my lessons from statues posing
only on their shoulder pads,
fighting sparrows or filthy crows:
All life I saw them staring out
sorrowfully from their granite stance .
I woke up at that very hour,
stripped out my costly clothing,
I do not want to suffer
from that excess of taste
that spells embarrassment:
like mothers finding their kids
in the adult movie,
At least embarrassment is not an imitation.
It's intimacy for beginners,
like the orgasm that no one cares to fake.
I almost admire it,
but for others I almost always despise.
