The structure of culture

is like the rocks, the way
the oldest ones from way down deep
squish up in Hawaii
like hot, inverted soft serve,
new and smoldering. The old ways
keep returning.

Since we realized we live
in monkey bodies, the cool thing
(civilized) is to keep your
monkey body sleek
like a pet Afghan hound,
and the sleekest monkeys live
the way the monkeys lived,
barefoot, eating fruits
and insects, eschewing bread
and supportive insoles.

Now, they say the monkeys
(or was it the Puritans?)
couldn't really sleep through that
whole, long dark - they woke up
in their unlit communal beds
and screwed, and analyzed their
dreams. They visited the neighbors.

It's the old ways, when we get up
from screwing in the vibrating dark
and fry Brussels sprouts in butter
and eat ice cream and smoke weed
by the pool, then revive our sleep.