THIS TOO SHALL PASS
Like the changing of the seasons
fall to winter, back to spring;
like migration of the birds,
flying south then north again;
the winds of change
change
varieties of
misexplication:
fear not the passing season
of fornication.
For every odd, queer decadence
there is a time for fiendishness,
and a time for every pervert
on the planet.
(thanx, The Birds)
If everyone who had ever
fooled around on their mate
and got caught, shared the fate
of high-profile politicians, i.e.
brought before the ravenous crowd
with legal mate in thorny crown,
to elucidate sins of which they are guilty
for video posterity:
the machinery of government,
economy, production,
would grind completely to a halt;
so many folks would be at fault.
It's not a sin unless you're caught
and exposed by nefarious plot.
(Fornication and divorce
are otherwise "no-fault.")
But the public beheading,
drawn and quartered for all to see,
would be deterrent severe enough
to increase marital fidelity.
