Dirty Filthy Monkeys

Deep words fill up and spill out, complicating what was happy to remain simple. Seriousness is a dirty joke that happens to sound clean. Why cover the meaningless with pain? We could laugh. We could run for the feel of the wind, the burn of restless legs. Instead we like things dressed in flashy pedantics, habitual mess. We're lethargic, but compressed by our ways of labeling time. Now it's hard, the easiest fun looks dirty and unsophisticated. Our swing sets rust as we grow up fast, to sip our wine from fancy cups. We're too busy to learn about a place in Africa where certain kinds of monkeys exchange sexual favors for food sharing and friendship. Maybe we should try this again.