MALE CHAUVINIST PIG

       I saw a male chauvinist pig today
with the distinguished head of a piranha,
wincing, fickled, adult-headed enfant terrible,

spouting utter nonsense beneath

an uncivilized veneer, Lord Chesterfield-like

in the eyes of emotional ignorance

like the government shutting down farms,

force-feeding their muscle-power.

       I saw a male chauvinist pig today:

his icy eyes glittering, an idol on a

giant cliff he placed himself, doffing

his cap in plainest language, like

The Department of Defense that is on

the offense, twisting every door knob

before tucking oneself to bed.

       This is our animal reality. The way

one's face may burn in the company of

strangers. Every chauvinist, male or female,

is stumbling towards a disaster; eyes

that feast on oneself like a narcissist Tsar,

"scowling like Jupiter."