Garments of inattention, oh mere items,
Wagging your countenances here and there,
You blunt obstructions to my thoroughfare,
Who plucked you from your white paternal stems
And told you, go to school? Quotidians
With Dresden crockery faces, pastry hair,
You with the balcon, you with the derrière,
You with the eyes like idiot apothegms …
Well, do the crossword puzzle, go to sleep,
Mouth open, hands laid vulnerable in your lap.
Reason and I will rage at your dumb nap
As we always rage, and you, I guess, will keep
Some infantile kind of chastity as you go,
Safe in a world you do not need to know.