Juxtaposed

On Tuesday, December 9th, the Toronto Star ran a story about the aniversary of the Universal declaration of Human Rights, which was signed on Dec. 10th, 1948. The writer, Olivia Ward, interviewed various intellectuals and human rights organization representatives, all of whom agreed that the declaration would most likely not pass if it were introduced to the UN now. No one would back the lofty ideals put forward by the declaration.

Meanwhile, on the facing page, a tiny little clip of a story reported that a dog in Chile risked its own life to save its hurt friend. The dog dragged the seriously injured dog from where it was lying unconscious in the middle of the freeway, to the safety of the road’s shoulder. It all got caught on a security tape.

Maybe the cynics were right. The only right way to live is to live like a dog. It’s unfortunate that we humans so often fall short.

Dubber Rucky: Notes from a Bathtub

Green syrup runs through the cascade,
Crashing, exploding into foam, foam everywhere
Runs up round my belly, peninsular anatomy,
Surrounded by water on all sides but one
And groping hands (mine, no less)
Blindly find their way to the dimpled skin
Just bellow the small and above the in-between
undulating like a fat baby’s inner thighs
Pimpled and follickled, and inspiring to the touch
The foam laps up to the venus mound,
(but be not fooled, the gods have nothing to do with it)
The pubic hairs stand tall, like turrets,
A castle on the pebbled shore
And the waves wheel and deal on all sides
An island, unconnected to anywhere or anyone
Nipples like lighthouses, jutting out of the water
up top cresting the soft fleshy mountains,
The groundskeeper has not been by recently,
The long fine hairs around the ruby red buildings
Waver in the wind like long grass
Wrinkled skin puckers on my fingertips
Osmosis has called the skin juice out to play,
To gather with its brethren on the other side
Of the cellular barricade, as envy creeps through me
For I wish I too could release my water
Right then, right there
And feel the heat swirl along my skin,
A gulf stream jetting across and beside,
So hot against the rest of the gone-cold-ocean
But I don’t because that would be disgusting
And other people have to bathe here too
But, God, it would be nice.

However, one must always remember Pathagoras’ wise words: “Don’t eat your heart”