you, uncradled

society is a beautiful woman
who will fuck you once.

you will go at it for hours
and only know her first name.
she will leave your sweaty sheets
before morning light.

your encounter will feel
as if it were the only
perfect moment
you could hope for,

and you will look for her
and starve for recognition in those you pass
on the street
clomping past you with their high heels
and shopping bags.

you will look for her,
and there will be nothing left
except obsession and the perfected harmony
of your sense of loss

society is a sculpted man
you suspect is jamming syringes full of steroids.
you want to know him.

he will smile wide and know your story
you will try to cage part of that
encounter, burn with the same strength

your wife knows him,
perhaps too well,
you are too blessed, too fortunate
to ask questions