If I were a carp, I’d linger in my pond,
Bury my head in slime and be not worried.
I’d have all day, all night to myself,
Nothing would upset my calm.
I’d swallow corn after corn, worm after worm,
Gulp water and spit it out.
And when I slide past tadpoles or a swarm of little fish,
I’d take delight to see them flee,
I’d laugh to myself and make a splash.
I’d glide gently at the bottom of my kingdom,
Watch other carp writhe and twist,
And lay a million eggs.
And when the murky waters clear,
I’d swim to the top and spend my sperm
And swim away without a qualm.
I’d not count how many eggs were hatched
Or how the little fish fared,
I would not, could not care.

Born human, I wished, I’d lived, not now but long ago.
I wished, I were not I, but my ancestor.
I’d live in a cave in a deep dense forest,
Snap juicy fruit, hunt deer.
I’d gather daffodils or slumber on a lake shore,
Hide when the lion came.
I’d play all day, wrestle all night,
Wonder why the moon was hungry,
Lean at times, full at times.
I’d wonder if the stars were her children
Or her sisters,
I’d wonder where the sun disappeared,
When it set
And which lion made it flee.
I’d measure the length of rainbows,
Gauge them with my arms.
I’d be hairy and strong.
I’d lurk for women, capture them,
Pin them to the ground, then let them flee.
It would not matter, if they cried, if they bled,
I’d make certain my sperm was spent and they were rid.

But living on the verge of the second millennium,
I am doomed to suffer.
I’d see love begin, end too soon but know not why.
I’d have memories that haunt me, words that hurt.
I’d have questions and no answers.
I’d love and be loved but never enough,
Never for long, never for ever.
I’d build houses, but no one would dwell in them.
I’d tell my love, I loved her, but she wouldn’t care.
I’d swear I’d never love again, make the same mistake
Hurt myself again.
I’d die without dying, live without living,
And when I laughed, no one would know,
I was laughing in pain.