We were not made to walk upright
But trees were the ruin of us,
Got us off our haunches,
Free swinging in the limbs,
Secure in the far branches of the sky.

But then, our hands free, we saw the horizon,
Felt the lure of the long grasses below and forced
Ourselves up into a ludicrous perpendicularity
To see our predators and find our preys.

Add a million years or so of inadequate adaptation,
Compressed and crushed vertebrae,
Prolapsed discs and irritated nerves
And spasm’d here I lie
In my last remaining attitude of comfort;
Socks impossible and shoes untied.