This World Is Much Too Much Perhaps

This World Is Much Too Much Perhaps

Here’s Goldilocks again complaining

about the porridge and smashing furniture.

After such a meager diet of horizon

who can blame her? She’s a city girl, you know.

Has never seen a cow hand milked. (Who has?)

What does she care about Botticelli?

Or how the three bears must feel coming

home to find their place wrecked up?

It could have been so good with her breasts

like painted hills chiseled in the sky.

The hummingbird would perceive her nectar even.

She could be Flora and we who are smoldering

on the edge of distinction would be her newest lover.

But first we’d check to see our gizzards were intact.