Poem In Which I Learn From Twitter

(from an astrophysicist’s un-peer-reviewed press release)

that the universe is not, in fact, fractal,
that there is no ultimately infinite regression,
that there is a scale at which ambassadors
will not be microcosmic, cannot be relied upon
as representative of everything,
that when we fall through time and space
we will not loop a perfect circle,

that if we can find far enough away
we will have found the grail of a breathtaking
indifferent perspective,
that all is not lost.

(from the widely circulated utterances of certain gentlemen)

that some men believe their metaphors
and think sex is a game like a boardgame,
maybe chess for the more traditionally-minded,
possibly monopoly or risk or scrabble,
think a unilateral disinclination to continue playing
or even just wanting to change the board or the pieces or the rules

is an unsporting moral failing,                            think that sex is
a log flume or a rollercoaster and that once the crash-bar locks
for the duration of the ride that’s it and come what may
you can only get off to be legitimately sick into a bin
when the carriage has come in its sweet goddamn time to a juddering stop.

Anthony Adler

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