Straight Line

Each time you draw a line on paper
You hope to god, it would be a straight line.
And I question – Why are we so obsessed
With straight lines?

If you’re mentally ill, like Einstein’s son was,
A full-option schizophrenic for that matter,
Would you screw with his beautiful mind?
Maybe somewhere in his cloud-filled sky
He would have hidden e=mc2
Arcing like a mystical rainbow

And if you’re wearing a pink polka dot shirt
And a plush pink bow tie and you happen to have
A pair of testicles hanging underneath,
Will you obsess your mind with
“He is gay” thoughts?

I tell you, nothing is perfectly straight…..
The bamboo grass slants to show humility.
Usain Bolt can run both 100m and 200m.
A kiss coils together in Frenching tongues.
Breasts are never perfectly perky.
Plato was no fool, the world was never flat.
Californication has little to do with fornication.

And I tell you, everyone is crooked.
You only need to look in the bathroom mirror
To ogle that gorgeous man with golden muscles
Emerging from glass. Your reflection and you
Will always be a same-sex love story. The man on the mirror
Makes you so happy, you’re having a gay old time
Just like a Pharrell Williams song.

And without you realizing,
You have become your own sunshine

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