They say it offers insouciance:
Like Granny Smith apples soaked
In peanut butter,
It’s ever-adored.
It may only be a guise:
A parched rose wrapped
In a bouquet of April tulips.
I myself am uncertain:
The prison sentences are ghastly,
There’s no question. But does it really infuse
Our tired, debilitated selves with painlessness?
*
Pain, it seems,
Has utility.
Indeed,
Pain is the great instructor.
**
Repress, repress! They chant:
I’m skeptical.
Illumination! Illumination! They chant:
It’s nebulous.
Perhaps they’re right.
Perhaps they’re not.