Back to Nature or I won't give up my seat on the bus to a whooping crane.

Everywhere is the singing of the expected

and the glories of the assumed.

And I revel in them:

in elevators, central heat

and in-the-ground swimming pools.

I do not share my father's pride

in snow-stumbling walks to school.

I defy character-building forays

into the woods to carve out winter heat

with an ax.

My natural element is polyurethane

as I rest in my electronic ark

appliances about me,

two of every kind.

Noble savage?

Rousseau?

Hell, no. I won't go.