Wrinkles

The streets of the city

They’re filled with cows, apes, and pigs

I watch them

What they get up to

Their shit and feed

It builds up

So damn hard to breathe

What once was a path

Now is a dump

My God!

Such efforts spent

To find some transport

The gymnastics I do

To not ruin my shoes

But perhaps this is an Island

And perhaps I cannot swim

Such skills were never taught

I’m placated

I’m ensured

For everything we need

Is right here

Of course!

And how can I argue

When I cannot speak

This among other skills

I was never taught

For everything is as it is

No need to elaborate

These practical animals

They’ve worked out all the wrinkles

Like jocks and journalists

They bore me in my sleep

Where the commonsense should have no reign

Yet my wrinkles

They dry me out

And the mirror

A dispassionate reminder

Asking me

From where do the wrinkles begin?

From where do they unfurl?