I am ashamed
That I am mostly disgusted
By two fortyish lovers
I scrutinized on the city's free fake trolley.
She scoured out his nose and ears
Over and over, devotedly,
Wiping the goo on her shorts.
Did she judge the goo to be his gift
Or at least her exemplary achievement?
She is as focused as a
deluxe surgeon.
Her not-ugly face never gets bored.
His head relaxes on her steadfast lap.
In his near-ugliness he is smiling.
The process lasts throughout the ride.
He also does not get bored.
She is the mother cat whose job
Is to preciously clean her kitten without stop;
Or is this vision
A sort of Pieta'?
Are they utterly in love,
In love above most other lovers?
Are they so free they can do such stuff in public;
Or are they bizarrely unashamed?
I devoted myself to staring:
Can my disgust be discussed?
Or do I admire such ugh-ness?
The clothing of the unwary pair
Verged on being rags.
Will they be inexplicable icons
In my brain?
© Stephen Margulies, 2019
© Stephen Margulies, 2019
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| CAT Trolley, courtesy of nbc29.com |
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