colonel@sunybcs.UUCP (Col. G. L. Sicherman) (12/03/85)
Suppose (the chance is there) that you were born
With the recessive gene of pure freedom:
Your toe-bones point to where you want to go,
Your spine doesn't slouch, your eyes do not focus
Beyond whatever it is you want to see.
You feel no nausea at the crazy surface
Of the snow, nor does the moon's trajectory
Remind you of your imminent demise.
Does the snow reflect the moon, or does the moon
Reflect the snow? Your teeth are chattering,
Your fingers numb. The doctor puts the snow
Back in its box, the moon in its album cover.
"I'm sorry to tell you you were never free.
Please pay the nurse, your mother, as you leave."
--
Col. G. L. Sicherman
UU: ...{rocksvax|decvax}!sunybcs!colonel
CS: colonel@buffalo-cs
BI: csdsicher@sunyabva