AN ODE TO WARTS

spots on the apples

small greyish white lies

the mouse in the house

vapid pop-celebrity worship

too many drinks
now and then

sleeping on the carpet

the way the cosmic company
always manages to pay you
a little less than agreed upon

the tendency of the human race
toward conformity and superstition

these are all just small warts:
you can freeze them off
if you can spare the money and trouble.
as a poor poet,
I find I usually have better uses for both

Besides,
maybe they serve
some obscure, complicated purpose,
like mosquitos.
Apply Kant's universal imperative:
what if all the warts
and mosquitos of the world
were methodically eradicated
(except for those here and there
that survived?)

Would the impact be positive?
Like Socrates,
only with a little less sarcasm,
I don't know.
But how often,
at the end of the day,
is the cure
worse than the disease?

I say, please:
"farmer, farmer, put away that DDT now;
give me spots on my apples,
leave me the birds and the bees."

- (Jo. Mi.)