Another-- well, this is not exactly
a breakup poem, next to it on the page,
this is an unrequited love poem.
And the lover is sitting in a drive-in movie show, sort
of half watching the movie.
Actually he's watching the movie through his straw.
And he's got the iced Coke in his lap,
trying to freeze his romantic area down there, so
that he is not--
and he's thinking about his lost love,
and he's thinking about how she got out of it by saying,
well, we really don't go together,
our chemistry is not right, the DNA or whatever.
And so he tries to console himself with this concept,
you know, this sociobiological concept that it's not--
we really have no control over our needs,
or our physical urges, and it's the DNA in us,
or it's the genetic makeup in us that
causes us to choose partners.
And so he's trying to console himself with that.
This poem is called "The Consolations of Sociobiology."
Those scars rooted me.
Stigmata stalagmite I sat at a drive-in
and watched the stars through a straw while the Coke in my lap
went waterier and waterier.
For days on end or nights no end I crawled on all fours
or in my case no fours to worship you--
Amoeba Behemoth.
--Then then you explained your DNA calls for meaner genes
than mine and since you are merely so
to speak its external expression etcet ergo among your lovers
I'll never be.
Ah, that movie was so far away the stars melting
made my thighs icy.
I see--" It's
[LAUGHTER]
I see-- It's not you, it's not you who is not requiting me,
it's not you who is not requiting my love.
--"it's not you who is not requiting me,
it's something in you over which you have no say says no to me."
Well you have to console yourself
some way, when those unrequited romances occur.