Slipping through the shadows, I imagine I am animal
A jaguar following my own geography of instinct.
I feel no embarrassment as I stare into flittering eyes
They are ignorant to my thoughts, but I want you with some fries.

The scientists, the beaker magicians say this is so
That horticultural human construction doesn’t go.
We are still just animals, but ones that are grafted
With language civilization and restraint are crafted.

But I think we all long to be back at that place
Where emotion runs thick, sweet loving embrace.
Turn language off, don’t think but just feel
Compassion and love and hate are real.