My Walk
On the walk from here to Riley's house, I pondered a host
Of irrelevant subjects. Why aren't there any Leninists here?
Why are so-called liberals actually hopelessly conservative?
Why does what was fresh turn stale, and what is stale outsell
What's fresh? I'd started to wonder what we'd end up learning
Once scientists finish their map of the brain. Are we goldfish
With fingers or like the machines that the dummkopfs
Are trying to prove can think, but can't, any more than goldfish
Or liberals? What about Leninists? I'll never know. I made it
To Riley's house.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 38 times
Written on 2025-11-08 at 23:15
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