Poem #64

If you abandoned a baby in a jungle,

Delegating daycare to some savvy primate

Who tutored the kid in matters fruit and fungal,

Which snakes to curve, and those upon which to predate;

If the adolescent bloomed on seeds, nuts, raw meat,

And thought in pictures, having no scripture to browse,

Perforating the air with grunts and whines for speech,

Shameless (with no suitor to impress or arouse);

If the grown-up, venturing in one direction

From twilight to twilight, infers their world to be

Tree, tree, tree, then returns, a content complexion

Their only strip of fabric in the tree, tree, tree;

If all this, then who, with confidence, can argue

That the human’s surmise is anything but true?

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