Protocopy*Instead of working to make it
safe to have sex
again, scientists have spent endless funds
and time to learn how
to clone. Boom, baby!
Bang, the reproductive
end of sex
taken care of just like that.
Then, of course, we have virtual reality
for fuck-free fantasy fulfillment.
But what about the physical
(and the traditionalists will like this
one) we still have
fashioned masturbation. And for the self-
obsessed - love will still exist with spitting
images of ourselves everywhere
we look, a bunch of egotistical
asexual cattle - evolution with a
*I was very (very) tempted to rewrite this poem when I read it again for the 1st time in 11 years, but it, just like the photo, captures a certain moment in time, and I think it would be no more appropriate for me to "doctor" the poem than it would for me to photoshop the picture. So, please enjoy (or withstand) it, warts and all.
Ah, your early 20s - the perfect time for navel gazing ( . . . not to be confused with omphaloskepsis).