Just why does one prefer the smooth, round curves
Hugging the skin of apples, buttocks, or breasts,
Donald Duck's downy cheeks, quacking in song,
Or the boundness of Mister Mickey's head?

Or grow to crave the jagged edges,
Lines like knives which slay the enemy,
Forming cool sleek planes, lining skyscrapers,
Where we stab in the back with enmity.

Some go crazy like Gorky or Miro,
Choosing biomorphic forms, floating freely,
Untethered, going nowhere and everywhere,
Swallowing all that's both fine and unseemly.

You just want to trim hedges, mow the lawn,
Smile, rest and pray on the Sabbath Day,
Do the right thing so your children can sing,
Just pay the bills at the end of the day.

Let philosophers search from whence we were born,
And Plato strive for divine forms behind forms.
Aquinas, rather, sets my mind straight:
Love thy neighbor-- his form, face and race.