Ontogeny one, phylogeny zero

What then of vestigial love? Of atavistic longings?

For years, I called you every Sunday at ten.

I bowed to rules that proved false. You asked me

to wait for you, I waited. It all turns acrid in the end.

I lament schemas and dictums, I reject theories

that lack compassion and disdain common courtesy.

Once a pledge, now merely shame. My bedraggled

animal-body vetoes evolution, wants to crawl off

behind the couch and die like an old house-cat.

If there is a function for male nipples, I do not know it.

The coccyx is a relic of the mammalian tail. They say.

Wisdom teeth are pulled before they transmit wisdom.

The appendix bursts with glee, ruining many a dark night.

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    image: Mark Knobil